Tree of Ages Box Set

by Sara C. Roethle

Something wet hit his cheek. He looked up to see a gentle white flurry descending upon them. It was actually snowing in the middle of the warm season. Maarav couldn’t help but feel that perhaps even he was out of his depth. The snowfall began to thicken, making it difficult to see through the already dense trees surrounding them.

  Iseult rode up by his side, looking grim as snowflakes gathered in his dark hair. “Keep your eyes open for shelter,” he advised. “We’re not outfitted for this type of weather.” He peered around at the falling snow like it was an enemy that had suddenly ambushed them. A fitting analogy, really, since most only had light cloaks to ward away the cold.

  They rode on in silence as the others oohed and aahed about the snow. Maarav did not ooh, nor did he ahh. It was a pretty sight, but it could quickly turn deadly. At least An Fiach would have trouble tracking them as the snow slowly covered up their passing.

  The trees thinned as they continued onward, leaving the riders fully unguarded from the icy flurry. The complaints of it being too cold began. Maarav scanned the land, freshly painted a crisp white.

  “Over there,” he stated to Iseult, catching sight of a large structure.

  Iseult narrowed his gaze in the direction Maarav pointed, then nodded. “I will ride ahead.”

  He took off without further explanation, though Maarav knew he was likely scouting for dangers. Glad to let his brother handle the risky work, he turned to halt the other riders.

  Finn and Bedelia reached him first. The hoods of their cloaks were pulled up over their heads, Finn’s a forest green, and Bedelia’s a dark brown that would easily blend in with most surroundings.

  “Iseult has gone to scout our shelter,” he explained as the others reached them.

  Anna seemed to have gotten over her irritation at sharing a horse, and now huddled close to Ealasaid for warmth. “I assumed we would ride on through the weather,” she commented around her chattering teeth.

  “Unwise,” Tavish replied before Maarav could. “This is no natural storm.”

  “Obviously,” Anna snapped. “Which is why we should continue riding until we’re out of it.”

  “Too dangerous,” Rae chimed in. “We would be fools to risk the horses.”

  Anna snorted. “You two sure picked the perfect time to begin offering input.”

  Neither of the men replied, but they were right. The snow was beginning to pile above the horses’ fetlocks. There was no predicting the duration of the downfall, nor how far the storm spanned.

  A hazy shape appeared from the direction Iseult had gone, soon revealing itself to be the man in question. He wordlessly gestured for all to follow him.

  Maarav turned his horse, taking a final look at the suddenly unrecognizable, empty expanses around them. While he was grateful they’d found shelter, he had the odd feeling that once they slept, they might not find their way back again.

  Bedelia tossed and turned in her bedroll. The shelter Iseult had scouted was the remains of a castle, long since fallen to disrepair. Fortunately, most chambers had a roof, granting the horses and riders a reprieve from the snow.

  The fire still blazed in the center of the expansive room where they had all congregated, their bedrolls circling the warm flames. One bedroll was notably empty. Iseult was prowling around in the snow outside, keeping an eye out for anyone who might attack them in the middle of a blizzard.

  Bedelia’s hand flexed around her dagger, concealed within her bedding. Was now the time? Her mission was to eliminate Finn’s protectors, namely Iseult. Would she be able to sneak up on him in the blizzard?

  Cold sweat beaded on her brow as she slowly sat up. Everyone in the room was motionless, and judging by the gentle sounds of snoring, fast asleep after the exhausting ride through the snow. If she killed him now, what would she do? Try to run off in the blizzard? Pretend he was murdered by bandits?

  No, it was likely best to wait, but she could at least check outside to see if an opportunity presented itself. Her stomach in knots, she slid the rest of the way out of her bedroll, silently sheathing her dagger at her side. She crept around the fire and her sleeping companions toward the place she’d hung her cloak on the wall to dry, above her damp boots.

  She tugged on her boots, lacing them haphazardly before wrapping the thick fabric of her cloak around her shoulders. With a final glance back in the direction of her sleeping companions, she ventured onward, stepping lightly down the stone corridor that would lead her outside. Cool moonlight filtered through the missing top portion of the door at the end of the hall, though the rest of the ancient wooden door stood fast against the elements.

  Reaching the entrance, Bedelia wrapped her gloved hand around the rusted iron bar holding the door shut. She slid it back, then pulled the door open. The air that streamed in was so cold it hurt to breathe. Beyond the doorway was a dazzling display of white. The snow had continued to fall while they rested, enough to nearly reach Bedelia’s knees. There was no sign of Iseult’s footprints on top of the snowbank, but he’d gone outside sometime ago, so they had likely been covered. Fortunately, the snowfall had ceased, else she might have turned back around to resume her warm spot in her bedroll by the fire.

  She took a deep breath, then let it out slowly, fogging the air in front of her face. Steeling herself, she stepped out into the night, not sure what she intended. Perhaps Iseult could be reasoned with, and convinced to leave Finn’s side for a time so she wouldn’t have to kill him . . . and perhaps the sky was really green and horses could fly.

  She gently pulled the door shut behind her, then made her way through the snow. Her boots crunched down through the ice, making it near impossible to walk without stumbling. Eventually she reached level ground where the snow had not piled quite so high. Stopping to steady herself, she scanned the glittering darkness. Everything was still.

  She started walking in a randomly chosen direction, staying near enough to the castle perimeter to not lose sight of it. Truly, she hoped she would not find Iseult at all, and she could return to her bed like nothing had ever happened.

  She wrapped her cloak more tightly around herself. Keiren had the sight, so Bedelia knew it was a possibility she was watching her at that very moment, but she also knew it was difficult for Keiren to see those surrounding Finn, so perhaps not. Would she know if Bedelia simply gave up on her orders, choosing instead to remain by Finn’s side where she could not be seen?

  She shook her head at her cowardly thoughts. It was not in her nature to hide, but it was against her better senses to fight a battle she could not win. Keiren would crush her like an insect beneath her boot.

  Perhaps if she told Finn the truth, they could figure out a solution together. She wasn’t sure exactly what Keiren wanted with Finn, but she knew it wasn’t good. Perhaps together, she and Finn could both survive.

  She continued walking, so absorbed in her thoughts that she forgot to search for Iseult. Instead she watched the glittering snow beneath her boots. The transformed landscape was stunning, really, especially in the cool moonlight, though it was hard to enjoy since it was so cold.

  She froze mid-step as a shiver ran up her spine, and not from the cold. She sensed a presence at her back seconds before a low growl met her ears. Thoughts of Faie wolves raced through her mind, and her old leg wound seemed to throb with the memory.

  Her breath caught in her throat. She turned slowly and drew her dagger, wishing desperately she hadn’t left her bow inside with her other belongings.

  She saw not Faie wolves, but three normal ones. Their eyes glistened in the moonlight as their paws crunched forward through the snow. She drew her blade, knowing the odds were against her. Her hands were nearly numb with the cold, and the wolves looked emaciated, desperate for a meal. If there were only two of them, perhaps she could have fended them off, but with three, they would easily be able to flank her. All it would take was a bite to a leg tendon and she would go down.

  She took a hesitant step back, and the wolves darted forward. She held up
her blade to fend off the first attack, blinded as a flash of fiery light cut across her vision. Someone stepped between her and the wolves, pushing her back while waving a burning torch toward the feral creatures.

  The animals backed away, frightened more by the fire than they ever would be of a blade.

  “Stay near me,” the man with the torch said, and Bedelia realized with a start that it was Iseult.

  He herded her behind him, keeping the wolves at bay with his fire as they backed toward the castle where their friends slept. The wolves snapped at the flames, urged on by their hunger. Bedelia’s breath hissed in and out through gritted teeth. She had just come so close to death. After all she’d endured in life, it almost seemed oddly poetic that it could have ended that way, with her nothing more than a meal in a wolf’s belly.

  When they reached the snowbank in front of the door, she stepped back and her foot sank. She lost her balance and began to fall, but Iseult’s free hand darted back and caught her wrist, holding her steady. Her breath caught in her throat as she noted the wolves’ hungry expressions, made menacing with shadows from the firelight. If she would have gone down, they would have pounced, fire or no.

  “Keep moving,” Iseult ordered.

  Nodding to herself, Bedelia trudged backward through the deeper snow until her icy hands hit solid wood. Keeping her gaze on the wolves and Iseult, she pushed the door open and stepped into the hall. Iseult followed her, keeping the torch between himself and the wolves until he was inside, then quickly pushed the door shut and slid the iron bar into place.

  Scratching, whining, and a few thuds could be heard as the wolves tested the door, then all was silent.

  Iseult turned toward her, torch still in hand, lighting his face and the hall around them. The snowflakes that had gathered in his black hair and on his shoulders began to melt, leaving dark stains of moisture in their place.

  “Always have a source of fire at hand when wandering the wilds at night. It will do more for you than a blade,” he explained.

  Bedelia nodded as she slowly relearned how to breathe. She tried to keep her thoughts out of her expression, especially the guilt. Did he know she’d only gone outside to stalk him? She would have killed him had she been given the chance . . . and he’d saved her. Perhaps she did deserve to be eaten by wolves.

  He stared at her, and she had the feeling he was somehow reading every single thought in her mind.

  “I-” she began, then cut herself off, unsure of how she could ever explain.

  “Go back to sleep,” he ordered. “I’ll watch the door.”

  Bedelia looked down at her feet and nodded, then shuffled away. Halfway down the hall she turned to find Iseult still watching her. “Thank you,” she muttered.

  He did not reply. He was clearly suspicious of her now, or perhaps he had been from the start. She would have to step much more carefully from this point on. She didn’t look back again until she had reached her bedroll. She curiously noted that two other bedrolls seemed empty, but did not take time to investigate who was missing. Instead, she noted that Finn was still peacefully sleeping, then quickly climbed back into her bedding. Still half-sitting, she gazed at the illumination of Iseult’s torch at the end of the hall. A moment later, the light went out, leaving her in darkness.

  She was beginning to realize that darkness was a place where Iseult was far more comfortable than she. Sure, she’d tasted darkness at Keiren’s side, but it was not where she would choose to live.

  Perhaps once, but not now.

  Chapter Seven

  Iseult watched the lumps that were his companions bundled up in their bedrolls, secretly hoping the lump that was Finn would wake first. He hadn’t missed the two empty bedrolls at the other end of the room. They’d belonged to Tavish and Rae. Either they’d gone out while he was escorting Bedelia back to safety, or they’d somehow snuck by him while he was in the hall, which he doubted.

  He’d slept little during the night, and what rest he did allow was spent leaning against the wall near the door. He’d never needed much rest. He’d always thought perhaps it was due to his curse, but Maarav seemed to sleep just fine. Or perhaps he simply pretended in order to feign ignorance about his missing men.

  His gaze moved to the lump that was Bedelia, near Finn. What had she been doing wandering out in the snow? Had she entered into a plot to distract him from the other men? If she’d only needed to relieve herself, she could have stayed much closer to the door. He’d been watching her since she walked out, noting the way she moved, how she favored her right leg, and had seen the wolves stalking her. He’d almost debated stepping in.

  He knew it was too great a coincidence that they would happen upon her on the Sand Road after she and Finn were separated in Migris. His suspicion was only increased by the fact that she knew Maarav, and that he had been the one to deliver the potion to cure her ailment after Finn was kidnapped by Anna. Was she somehow affiliated with the secret city, or did she simply know Maarav as in innkeeper in Migris?

  One of the lumps stirred, drawing his attention. A clump of fluffy blonde hair came into view. Only Ealasaid.

  He shook his head. What an odd group they had gathered. He at least trusted Ealasaid, and her magic was useful.

  Next rose Finn, then Kai. Slowly the others awoke and sat up. Last was Bedelia, likely tired from her late night exploits.

  “Has the snow stopped?” Finn asked of the room in general as they all struggled out of their bedrolls.

  “Yes,” Iseult replied, stepping toward her to offer her a hand up.

  She took it, smiling up at him, melting his icy heart . . . just a bit.

  “Though riding will be treacherous for a time,” he continued. “The snow will disguise the lower areas and holes in the ground, so we’ll need to be cautious of where we ride. We’ll make for Badenmar, and hope it has not been . . . affected.”

  Iseult watched as Finn glanced across the fire at Kai, meeting his gaze. The three of them remembered well what happened the last time they were in Badenmar. That was the night Kai and Anna had first kidnapped Finn. No such thing would happen this time.

  Ealasaid and Bedelia left the group, heading toward where the horses were tethered. A few minutes later they returned with hard bread and dried fruits, passing them out to everyone in the group. Bedelia did not meet Iseult’s eyes when she handed him his portion.

  Anna peered at the two empty bedrolls, confused.

  “I did not see them depart,” he explained, stepping up beside her, “but I doubt it was long after everyone went to sleep. I do not believe they will return.”

  Maarav stepped up on his other side. “Those blighted, worthless midges,” Maarav hissed, staring at the space his men should have occupied. “They could have at least challenged me, rather than running away in the night like cowards.”

  Iseult simply looked at him, attempting to divine whether or not he was just playing at being surprised, then turned away. It did not matter if he acted. Iseult was watching him regardless. Perhaps they’d go outside and find the men eaten by wolves, and the riddle would be solved.

  After everyone had eaten their small meals and attended to their morning duties, they prepared the horses and set out. Finn had attempted to climb onto Bedelia’s horse, but Iseult stopped her, requesting that she ride with him instead. Kai commented on the human and wolf prints near the door, though neither Iseult nor Bedelia offered to explain.

  The castle grew small behind them as they rode across the frozen landscape, glittering fiercely in the early morning sun.

  “It’s beautiful,” Finn muttered softly near his ear. Her arms were wrapped loosely around his waist, keeping herself steady as his horse trudged through the deep snow.

  While he’d requested she ride with him in part to keep her away from Bedelia, he also trusted his horse more than the others to not lose its footing in the snow. Her added warmth at his back was merely a bonus.

  “Do you have any memories of the snow?” he asked, k
nowing that she returned to the human world after the snows had passed for the season.

  She sighed. “I remember the snow when I was a tree, but not before. Though, sometimes I see it in my dreams. I see it just like this,” she removed one arm from his waist to gesture at the glittering landscape, then quickly resumed her hold as their mount lurched forward into a hidden dip.

  “What do you think it means?” he asked gently. While he didn’t necessarily mind the crisp air biting into his skin, they should have been feeling comforting rays of warmth, given the season. He’d seen Faie magic before, but he was not sure even the Faie were capable of covering the land in ice.

  “I wish I knew,” she replied. “I wish I knew a lot of things. If only I could speak once more with my-” she cut herself off, as if only then realizing she’d been speaking her thoughts out loud.

  “Your mother,” he finished for her. She’d told him about her encounter with her mother. She wasn’t sure if it had been a dream, or some alternate reality, but her mother had warned her of great danger, and had advised her to stay near Iseult’s side. Her mother had also implied she had been hiding Finn from their tribe, the Cavari.

  Finn was silent for several seconds before replying, “Yes. I just wish she could explain things to me. I wish anyone could. For some reason, this snow makes me feel like a child again, but I do not understand why. I don’t even remember anything about being a child. I just . . . I feel like it means . . . something.”

  “It will come to you in time,” he offered, hoping to comfort her.

  “Will it?” she questioned, sounding almost hostile. “It feels like it’s been ages since I was a tree, and yet I’m still in the same place I was before. Searching for answers that seem to get farther away the more I look.”

  He could understand her discouragement, but he also suspected she didn’t truly want the answers she sought. He suspected her missing memories were her own doing, a way to deal with the pain of losing her child in her previous life. She would never be able to unlock them if she could not accept that loss.