If she’d been able to remain in her small village, she would likely be planning her wedding by now, preparing to settle down and have children. She clenched her jaw. Her gifts had ruined that. Now she was doomed to wander the wilds alone, of no use to anybody.
Àed had fallen into a stupor, slouching down near the fire. Iseult and Maarav both waited, neither showing any emotion. Those two were family alright, though Ealasaid had been under the impression that Iseult had no family to speak of.
She cleared her throat, ready to announce her departure, when Àed suddenly stood. He stared at Maarav for a minute, as if peering into his very soul, then looked to Iseult and Ealasaid. “What are ye all waiting for?” he growled. When everyone stared at him in surprise, he clarified, “We have a meetin’ to make.”
Still too surprised by the sudden shift in atmosphere to move, Ealasaid stood motionless, watching as Àed left the fire to begin saddling his mule. Iseult joined Àed and saw to his horse, while Maarav waited with his already saddled mount, staring at Ealasaid with a curious expression. She turned her gaze downward, uncomfortable with the attention.
“What are ye waitin’ for, lass!” Àed barked, startling Ealasaid out of her thoughts.
She looked to Àed and stammered, “B-but I thought-”
Somehow catching her meaning, Àed waved her off. “If I leave ye here among the refugees, ye’ll be robbed, then ye’ll either freeze to death or starve to death, whichever happens first.”
Her stomach turning at the implications, Ealasaid nodded a little too quickly and rushed over to her horse. She thought she heard Maarav chuckle behind her. The idea of traveling with that man had her trembling with apprehension. She had to remind herself that she wasn’t defenseless.
Her gifts may have ruined her life thus far, but in a pinch, they could also save it.
Iseult let out an irritated breath as he led the way on horseback. Once he found Finn, they could branch off on their own. He would fulfill his purpose, and he would protect her from her people. According to some, she was dangerous, but so was he. He’d made his choice, and she would be free to make hers.
He glanced over his shoulder at Maarav, his long lost brother. Long dead brother. Iseult was not unknown in these lands. The swordsman dressed in black, taller than most men, and faster, or so his reputation stated. Maarav could have found him sooner, so why now? Was it mere happenstance, or was it Finn? This was all based on the assumption that the man actually was his brother, but if he was, why had his mother told him he’d died? The world was turning itself upside down, and Iseult feared he was being swept up in the tides of fate. He had no use for fate. He would choose his own life.
He sucked his teeth as he came back to the present. As they traveled he’d seen numerous abandoned campfires, trampled greenery, and leftover refuse, signs of a large contingent of men, likely this ridiculous An Fiach they’d heard far too much of. He had chosen their route accordingly, far enough from the main road that they would not be spotted, but close enough that they would lose little time on their journey. He couldn’t miss Finn when Kai brought her to the Archtree. If he brought her to the Archtree. He wasn’t sure how Kai had figured things out to begin with, unless he’d snuck a glance at Iseult’s map while he was sleeping.
“You noticed the camp, I see,” Maarav observed as he rode up beside Iseult.
Iseult schooled his expression to remain impassive. He might not trust his brother, but he needed his ship. All of the questions he had for the man could wait. He had noticed the camp, off in the distance near the main road. He had no intention of moving closer to verify if it was An Fiach. It didn’t matter.
“Aye,” he replied simply.
Àed and Ealasaid rode behind them without comment. Iseult wasn’t sure why the old man had really brought the girl along, but he thought it might have something to do with Àed’s daughter. Some wrong of the past he was attempting to right, first with Finn, and now with this young girl.
Iseult drew his horse to an abrupt halt, noticing movement in the trees ahead. Catching on, Maarav stopped beside him, forcing Àed and Ealasaid to come to a halt behind them. No one spoke.
Iseult narrowed his eyes as the rustling foliage revealed a man. He swatted at a cluster of midges buzzing around his face as he walked on, not noticing the group of riders who watched him.
It would have been convenient to let the wanderer go about his way, never having noticed Iseult and his companions, except that Iseult knew the man.
He cleared his throat loudly, and the man whipped around. They were some distance off, but the man seemed to recognize Iseult instantly. They had travelled together for many weeks, after all.
“I never thought I’d say this,” Anders said loudly as he approached, “but I am overjoyed to see you!”
Making no initial move toward friendliness, Iseult took in Anders’ appearance as he neared. He wore the uniform of An Fiach, dark brown with crimson insignia, and his dusky red hair was tightly braided on either side of his scalp. He also looked tan and well-nourished, much more healthy than when they’d first met.
Anders’ smile faltered as he reached the group and was met with no smiles in return. “Where’s Finn?” he asked, as if just noticing that she was no longer there. “And Kai and Liaden?” he added.
“Where’s yer sister?” Àed asked instead of offering an answer. “I don’t imagine she’s joined the Hunt as well?”
Anders’ face fell even further. “I have searched for Branwen going on weeks now. She was taken by the Tuatha.”
Finally Iseult dismounted, wanting to question Anders face to face. Once on the ground, he took a few steps forward to loom over the smaller man. “Why has An Fiach come this far North? What are they planning?”
Anders visibly gulped. “I think that’s the most I’ve ever heard you speak in one sitting.”
Still waiting for an answer, Iseult did not reply.
“Might I ask why we’re harassing this soldier?” Maarav interrupted, still atop his horse.
“Perhaps we should just let him go on his way,” Ealasaid squeaked.
She sounded farther away than she should to Iseult, as if she’d backed her horse up at the sight of Anders, though he did not turn around to confirm his suspicions.
Anders took a step away from Iseult and turned his attention to those still on their horses. Iseult watched as his gaze hesitated on Maarav for a moment, then obviously landed on Ealasaid, judging by the softening of his expression.
Anders paused, jaw slightly agape, then rallied himself. “I don’t believe we’ve met,” he began, still looking past Iseult to Ealasaid.
“I’m no one,” she said quickly, finally drawing Iseult’s eye. What was she hiding?
Ealasaid pushed her blonde curls behind her ears, only to have them fall forward again. She cast her eyes downward, uncomfortable being the new center of attention.
“Your mission,” Iseult stated, turning the attention back to Anders. “What is it?”
Anders’ skin flushed as he seemed to think things over, then he answered, “We’re heading north to some old settlement that’s been taken over by refugees. We seek to ensure their safety from the Tuatha.”
“Ye seek to put innocents to the question, and to make the homeless doubly-so,” Àed growled.
Anders appeared truly stricken. “We would do no such thing!” he shouted.
Iseult laughed bitterly. “Just as naive now as the day you chose to travel with any of us.”
Anders took a steadying breath and turned his full attention to Iseult. “If you see my sister, please do your best to part her from the Tuatha. I beg you.”
Iseult nodded. “If we meet again in the North, do your best to run the other way.”
“I assure you we’re not-” Anders began, but Iseult cut him off with the raise of his hand.
Anders let out a tired breath, then nodded, more to himself than to anyone else. “I should rejoin my contingent before they depart,” he mumbled, th
oroughly cowed. He cast a final glance at Ealasaid. “I wish we could have met under different circumstances.”
As Anders began to walk away, Iseult turned to remount his horse, then instinctively turned to Anders again.
“I hope you find her,” Anders said, a knowing, sad look on his face.
Iseult nodded, knowing that Anders wasn’t talking about Branwen, but about Finn. Perhaps the young man wasn’t as naive as Iseult had first believed.
“We need to warn those poor people,” Ealasaid piped in, sounding braver now that Anders was almost out of sight. “I know just what An Fiach is capable of, and would not wish such a fate on anyone, let alone those who have already lost most everything.”
Iseult grunted in acknowledgement. Few cities had ever existed to the north, and chances were likely that Iseult knew just where the refugees had set up.
“It’s on the way to where we’re going,” Maarav announced. “We’ll stop to offer a warning, then be on our way.”
Iseult frowned as he kicked his horse forward without a word. Maarav spoke as if he too knew just where the refugees were. Chances were they were both right, and they would both see their ruined homeland quite soon.
Anders fought many conflicting emotions as he made his way back to the campgrounds of An Fiach. His once small contingent had joined up with many others. The crowd of men had made Anders anxious enough to take a walk in the woods by himself, despite any Faie that might lurk within. Now, with how Iseult and his companions had reacted, he was seeing the men in a different light. Could it be true what Àed had said? Anders trusted Radley, but could he trust the others? He’d been told they would make sure the refugees were safe from the Faie. They had no reason to harm innocent people, did they?
He felt close to tears as he reached a group of men sparring with practice swords. He imagined real swords in their hands as they chopped down innocent women and children. He shook his head. It couldn’t be. Still, part of him wanted to rush back and join Iseult and the others, even if he was unwanted.
He gritted his teeth and moved past the sparring men. If they reached this settlement in the North and turned immediately to bloodshed, he would do exactly as Iseult had advised. He would run the other way.
Of course, if that lovely young lady, Ealasaid, was there, he might not be able to move his feet as fast as he would like.
He moved on past the cookfires, far away from the other men, to find an area where he could sit alone to think. Finding a spot, he sat on a moss-covered log, and stared out at the trees. He could hear the ocean not far off. Reviewing recent events, his heart ached. He’d argued when Radley first announced their new mission. They’d reached Migris, hoping to rest and resupply, but found the land riddled with poor and hungry people. He’d never seen anything like it.
Most travelers were turned away at the gates, but upon seeing the uniforms of An Fiach, the city guards had allowed Radley and his men into the city. There they’d gotten word that all men of An Fiach were to head north.
Anders had argued with Radley before they departed the city. His sister was in mortal peril, and he didn’t want to waste any time checking on a small settlement of refugees. He didn’t see what the harm was in letting the poor people stay as they were, but An Fiach planned to roust them, searching for Faie in the process.
Anders sighed, his budding doubts growing stronger. Feeling a chill, he began to build a small fire. He’d had little will to do anything after discovering his sister’s bloody cloak, let alone the will to defy Radley. Never mind the fact that he stood no chance of rescuing his sister on his own.
As if sensing Anders’ thoughts, Radley appeared from the direction of the main camp. His nearly bald head gleamed in the sunlight as he gave Anders a nod of greeting.
“Still down about your sister?” he asked as he took a seat in the dirt, opposite Anders. “She could still be alive. You shouldn’t give up hope just yet.”
Anders sighed. He was down about many things, but he couldn’t confide them to Radley. “I should find some way to tell my parents what’s happened, but I can’t seem to find the nerve to send a letter.”
Radley shrugged. “Few messengers are traveling the Sand Road these days. A letter wouldn’t likely reach them either way. Perhaps our regiment will find reason to travel south after we see to these pikers in the north.”
Anders held up his hands to warm them by the small fire he’d built, but it did little for the iciness that always seemed to be within him these days. He couldn’t remember the last time he was truly warm. He appreciated what Radley was offering, but knew he couldn’t accept. “I cannot return home without her. I swore to my parents that I would protect Branwen no matter the costs, and I’ve failed.”
Radley pursed his lips in thought. As a military strategist, Radley was far more keen than most, but when it came to more emotional matters, he was often in the dark. “Well, you’ll always have a home with An Fiach,” he said finally, surprising Anders with his perceptiveness.
Anders forced a smile onto his face, though inside he felt ill. Though he did long for a home, a life with An Fiach wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind.
Branwen did not recall much from when she'd been entranced, though Finn was prominent in her mind. She remembered briefly seeing her, but it was like she’d watched the scene from the end of a long tunnel. Her actions had not been her own.
She shook her head. It didn't matter now. None of it mattered. She was trapped in this . . . this gray place. She walked along endless corridors, sometimes bordered by stone walls, sometimes bordered by trees, but always with a relative feeling of sameness.
At first she'd thought that she wasn't alone. She'd seen other people, but when she approached them, they dissipated. Illusions. Yet, now she felt eyes on her all of the time, though she saw no one.
She wasn't sure how she'd gotten to that strange place. All she knew was that the voices that had instructed her since the Blood Forest had left her mind. She almost missed them. She would happily follow orders if it meant that she wouldn't be alone anymore.
Something on her side ached. A wound? She skimmed her hand along her side before she remembered that she’d already checked it several times over. There was no injury to be found. So why did it feel like she was bleeding?
Chapter Eight
Anna began to pace about her cabin as Kai left her. She’d explained what she’d been up to in their time apart, as had he. She'd lied about a great many things in her story, but once again, so had he. She stroked the hilt of a dagger, one of many in her belt. If only weapons could actually help her.
She continued to pace. The dreams had gotten worse. They began not long after Kai, Finn, and Iseult rescued her from the camp of the Ceàrdaman, but they had been sporadic back then. She'd brushed them off as nightmares. Who wouldn't have nightmares after her experience?
She still remembered wandering in that gray place for what seemed like weeks. The Travelers had put her there to search for their blasted tree. They didn't know how to find it, but Anna could see into the gray. The in-between place.
She hadn't wanted to admit it at first, but what the Travelers had told her made sense. She could see things others could not. She'd always brushed it off as luck, something that helped in her trade, but she'd been lucky far too many times in her illustrious career as a thief, and sometimes mercenary. It was almost as if she could predict the pattern of fate at times, escaping from situations before they took a turn for the worse.
Where it had been convenient before, now it was driving her mad. The Travelers had increased whatever natural gifts she possessed, and she was beginning to have trouble telling the difference between reality and illusion.
Not long after leaving Port Ainfean, Óengus had tried to enlist her to hunt Finn with him, but her gifts had allowed her to be one step ahead. She didn't need to follow Óengus, or Kai, or anyone else to find that blasted tree girl. The woman shone like a captive star. They all shone, any who possessed innate
magic, so brightly that at times Anna thought she might go blind. Just weeks ago, she’d believed that most magic was myth, but now she could see that many normal people possessed it, they just hid it, not wanting to be associated with the Faie.
Even with the magic users blinding her, and her dreams causing her to go mad, she wasn't one to be defeated. She would find that silly shroud and trade it to the Travelers, then they would make it all stop so things could return to normal.
She shook her head and lowered herself into the chair of her writing desk, then glanced over at her bed. She was exhausted, but too terrified to sleep. If she slept, she would go back to the gray place. She had seen many nightmares there. So many things she didn't understand. The previous night, she thought she even saw Branwen there with a bleeding wound in her side, but passed it off as subconscious guilt over what had happened to her.
The ship swayed comfortingly. She had never enjoyed sailing, but her distaste had recently changed. Out on the sea, you knew what dangers you might face, and you could confront them head on. Out on the sea, as long as she was awake, she was safe. Back on land, and in her dreams, the dangers were deceptive. They quietly closed in on her. She'd much rather drown in the ocean, than find a knife in the dark.
Kai hurried down the stairs that would take him below deck, clenching his jaw in irritation. Whether it was irritation at Sativola, Finn, or himself was anyone's guess. He’d just exited Anna’s cabin, when Sativola caught him by the arm. The large man had held an unusually cowed expression on his face as he drew Kai aside, out of hearing distance of Anna or any of the men.
At first Kai felt terrified that something ill had befallen Finn, but then he realized Sativola was the one who'd fallen ill. Finn had charmed him, and he meekly requested that Kai ascend the stairs below deck to speak with her. Sativola had explained that he didn't want Finn to fall into trouble, and worried what might happen if Anna or one of the other men went to her first.
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