Tree of Ages Box Set

by Sara C. Roethle

  Iseult’s hot blood melted the snow beneath him, and his vision began to fade to gray. He had failed. He would never free the souls of his ancestors. He would never make amends to Finn. He had failed them all. As his life slowly left him, he thought he saw Finn’s face, but the specter slowly faded, a last punishment to show him what he’d lost.

  Seated on a rock with her horse’s reins looped around her arm, Anna buried her head in her hands. They’d made it out of the snow with three fresh mounts, and three less companions.

  “We should wait for them,” Kai growled, but Anna just shook her head. She knew there was little they could do. The sun had finally risen above them, bathing the party in bleak light through the canopy of tree branches. Though she welcomed the sun after their escape through the freezing blizzard, she was worried the rest of their companions were still trapped in Oighear’s icy embrace.

  “And allow the Aos Sí to find us first?” she argued tiredly, lifting her head from her hands. “Or perhaps An Fiach?”

  Kai glared down at her. “You’re the one who needs Finn. You need her to take away your magic with the shroud.”

  “It won’t matter if we’re dead,” she hissed. “We should make our way to Garenoch and await them there.” Kai was right, but she feared Oighear more than she did her own curse. She wouldn’t venture back into the snowy forest for all the coin in the land.

  Sativola watched the scene nervously, seemingly as anxious to put distance between themselves and Oighear as Anna.

  “What if they’re in trouble?” Kai countered. “What if the Aos Sí recaptured them, and they’re back in their cells? Eywen is likely dead now. There will be no second rescue.”

  Anna wasn’t sure at what point they’d lost Finn, Iseult, and Bedelia, but she hoped the three had at least escaped and remained together. With Iseult by her side, Finn would make it to Garenoch. When she was close enough, Anna would be able to sense her . . . she hoped. At that moment, she saw no hint of the shine that usually emanated from Finn, often visible to her across small distances. She hoped it didn’t mean she was dead.

  She stood. “If they were recaptured by the Aos Sí, there is absolutely nothing we can do for them, except to be recaptured ourselves.”

  Kai sealed his lips in a grim line, then looked down at the scar on his palm. She knew what he was thinking, that there had to be some way he could rescue Finn, but Anna had always been realistic. Either Finn would meet them in Garenoch, and Anna would be saved from her visions, or she would not, and she’d be sentenced to eventual insanity.

  “We should get movin’,” Sativola muttered. “I’d rather not wait for those things to find us again.”

  “Yes,” Anna agreed. She led her horse away from the rocks where she’d been seated, then climbed into the saddle, feeling unsure of the creature. None of them had regained their original mounts, perhaps because the new ones were more readily accessible. She’d only had her previous horse since Ainfean, but this new one, even though it seemed a normal brown horse, had her wary. Anything concerning the Aos Sí and their psychotic queen had her wary.

  Kai continued to curse under his breath, but he and Sativola both mounted their horses and followed as she led the way. She had a keen sense of direction, but could only hope she was leading them back to the road after how turned around they’d gotten riding away through the snow.

  While, for selfish reasons, she regretted the loss of Finn, she couldn’t help taking a measure of comfort in traveling without her. Perhaps now they could travel unnoticed and unhindered by Faie, An Fiach, or anyone else.

  Finn felt entirely numb by the time her horse slowed its frantic pace. She’d made her way out of the snow, deep into a forest. Though the sun now shone overhead with early morning light, she had no idea if she was near the Sand Road, or had traveled in the complete opposite direction. Now, she wasn’t even sure of the direction of Oighear’s compound. All she was sure of, was that she was alone.

  She looked down at her mount’s white neck as the creature calmly ambled onward. Its fur was stained with her blood. She gingerly pushed her cloak aside and rolled up her sleeve to take a look at the gash. It had stopped bleeding, but the skin gaped like an extra mouth. Knowing little about wound care, she did the only thing she could think to do, and pulled a strip of fabric from the edge of her tattered cloak. Clenching her jaw, she did her best to one-handedly wrap it around her wound, securing it in a knot with her free hand and her teeth. That task finished, she pushed her bloody sleeve back down and focused on her surroundings.

  Though she’d left the snow behind, the air was almost unbearably cold. There was a bedroll tied to the back of her saddle, fortunately, but she’d yet to check its accompanying satchels for other supplies, and she had little motivation to do so. All she could think about was what might have happened to the others. If they’d been recaptured by Oighear . . .

  She sighed. Even if that were the case, she had no idea how to find her way back to rescue them. If she was even capable of rescuing them at all. She patted her horse’s neck, then stroked her fingers through its long white mane, grateful for the horse’s company.

  She worked her fingers further up its mane, marveling at the impossibly soft texture. Seeming to appreciate the touch, the horse stopped walking and turned its head back to look at her. Her gaze moved to the horse’s forehead, and she nearly lost her seat. Right in the middle, its base covered by white strands of mane, was a glistening white horn. The creature looked at her askance with a crystalline blue eye, as if daring her to question its existence.

  Finn stared back at the unicorn in shock. Her scant, previous memories let her know unicorns were exceedingly rare. They had been hunted to near extinction, and the remaining few creatures had faded along with the Aos Sí and other Faie. Why would the Aos Sí give up such a precious creature?

  Eywen’s plea rang through her mind, to have mercy when the time came. Was the gift of the unicorn an effort to gain the Dair’s favor? She felt oddly guilty, since she had little to do with the Dair, and knew she would not likely sway any judgement passed upon the Aos Sí, unicorn or no.

  “We should probably keep moving,” she instructed, not expecting the creature to understand her, but at the same time, feeling odd about nudging such a majestic beast with her heels like she would a common horse.

  The unicorn turned its head forward and started walking again without further prodding.

  “Can you understand me?” Finn gasped.

  The unicorn did not reply, and simply kept walking, so Finn passed off its obedience as a coincidence. Her injured arm was throbbing and she didn’t know whether her friends were living or dead. It didn’t matter whether or not a unicorn could understand her.

  The unicorn carried her onward as the sun slowly made its progress across the clear sky. She allowed the creature full rein, hoping it would not lead her back to Oighear, while secretly wishing it would, if only to make sure her friends were not recaptured.

  Eventually Finn sorted through the satchels secured on either side of the bedroll to find several day’s worth of food, a fire striker, two full waterskins, and a dagger. When she pulled out her first portion of food, a crumbly bannock wrapped in thin cloth, a small coin purse was revealed. Stuffing the bannock greedily into her mouth, she withdrew the purse to examine it. Inside were several coins, and a small blue stone. She held the stone up to the waning sunlight, marveling at its clarity, then quickly stuffed it back in the purse just as the unicorn halted.

  She glanced around through the trees. In the distance was a yellow meadow, just visible through the needles bedecking the heavy boughs. She turned her gaze back to the unicorn. “Are we done traveling for the day then?”

  The unicorn did not reply.

  With a heavy sigh, Finn climbed down from the saddle, then nearly lost her footing on the damp soil below. Her legs felt like the bones within had turned to mush, and could not properly support her. She hobbled to a nearby tree and leaned against it.

/>   To her surprise, the unicorn followed her, then gently nuzzled against her chest. Its horn hovered perilously close to her face, but she somehow trusted the creature not to harm her. She lifted her uninjured arm to stroke its cheek, once again taking comfort in the unicorns’s presence.

  “What do you say we build a fire so we don’t freeze?” Finn asked.

  The unicorn simply stared at her, then turned so she could reach the satchels on its rump.

  “Can you understand me?” she asked as she searched the satchel for the fire striker.

  The unicorn did not reply, and instead began inspecting the sparse tufts of grass covering the ground. Feeling sorry for the creature, she removed its saddle and bridle, though as she let the heavy saddle drop to the ground, she realized she’d have a hard time getting it back on. Her wound had rendered her right arm nearly useless.

  With a weak body and heavy soul, she removed the satchels and bedroll from the saddle, then set to gathering wood for a fire. She knew if she were traveling with Iseult, he would not allow the comfort for fear they might draw attention, but Iseult was not there, and part of her wanted to draw attention. Perhaps her friends were wandering the same woods as she, and her fire would lure them in.

  It took her longer than she would ever admit to any of her human companions to coax a flame from the dried grass and branches she’d gathered. Once the flames no longer needed her gentle fanning to feed them, she slumped back in relief. Her entire upper arm felt like it had been bashed with a rock, letting her know the wound was deep, and needed proper care.

  The unicorn continued to occupy itself as she moved her clothing aside to reveal the hastily bandaged wound. She unwound its covering and groaned as the fabric tugged at her sticky blood. Gritting her teeth against the pain, she retrieved one of the water skins and splashed cool liquid against the injury.

  Its attention caught by her hisses and groans, the unicorn ambled over to where she sat. Its breath fogged near her face as it lowered its muzzle to examine her. It took a few steps behind her, then lowered to the ground.

  Feeling unbearably weary, Finn unfurled her bedroll and covered herself, then leaned back against the unicorn’s soft belly. She instantly began to doze off. As she rested, she thought she could hear soft whispers around her. Her subconscious convinced her that the whispers were part of her fervent dreams, and she slipped into oblivion, sandwiched between the warmth of the unicorn and the fire.

  Anders couldn’t breathe. He was sure his lungs would pop at any moment. He thrust his arm upward, flailing for the next handhold. His palm scraped against rough basalt, setting his already raw skin on fire. With a final burst of effort, he pulled himself upward. He rolled across the edge to fully plant his body on top of the cliff face.

  He stared upward as a flock of sparrows flew across the cheery blue sky, then a white, bald head hovered into his vision.

  “It’s about time,” Niklas teased, not out of breath, nor scraped nor bruised in the slightest.

  Anders coughed, bumping the back of his head against the rocky earth, his lungs still burning from the long climb. “How did you get up here so quickly?” he rasped.

  Niklas shrugged, his shapeless robes minimizing the gesture. “My people are well suited to traveling great distances.”

  Anders huffed, then forced himself to a seated position. Standing would have to wait a few moments more.

  “Are we at least almost there?” he groaned.

  “Take a look behind you, my lad.”

  Though Anders didn’t appreciate the condescending tone Niklas added to the word lad, he craned his neck to look over his shoulder. In the distance behind him was a massive castle, or perhaps the better term was fortress. This was not the fancy home of a lord or lady in the Gray City, this was the dwelling of someone expecting war at any moment. The high walls were topped with ballistas and massive metal pots ready to be filled with hot oil. Anders squinted, trying to make out the men positioned every ten paces, but he could not see if they wore uniforms, nor could he see any banners flying above the spires.

  “Is this where that angry woman lives?” he questioned, still staring at the fortress.

  “Now you can see why I wanted her guarantee of a warm welcome,” Niklas explained.

  Anders staggered to his feet. “To what lord does she belong? Surely none of the great cities would allow such a fortress to stand without its mistress declaring fealty.”

  Niklas snickered. “How little you know of politics. This woman has no allegiances . . . although she did spend some time as the Lady of Migris.”

  Anders shook his head in disbelief. As the Lady of Migris? He supposed it was possible. No one had seen the Lady in years. There were rumors that she was actually a man, a Reiver, or perhaps one of the Faie.

  “Let’s get this over with,” he muttered.

  Nodding, Niklas started forward. Anders staggered after him, hoping this would be his final task. Surely he’d earned his sister back after all he’d endured? He eyed the fortress ahead warily. Perhaps instead, he’d soon be joining his sister on the other side.

  Chapter Twelve

  Bedelia woke with a start, then leaned forward to rub her sore back. She’d been leaning against a cold stone wall, somewhere dark, though her internal clock sensed that it was daytime. She jolted as she tried to move her shoulder, quickly remembering the bandaged arrow wound. Soon the rest of her memories returned, and she realized she was back in a cell within Oighear’s compound.

  She remembered taking off on horseback with the others, then the blizzard hit, blinding her. She was attacked and knocked from her mount. Her head slammed into something hard on the ground, and she’d been carried back to the compound as she drifted in and out of consciousness.

  She lifted the hand of her uninjured arm to the back of her head, finding her hair snarled with congealed blood. Lovely. She’d expected Keiren to kill her, or perhaps Iseult. It seemed wrong that she’d now die in a dungeon alone, her conscience uncleared of her secrets.

  “Did you see what happened to the others?” a male voice asked from across the cell she was in.

  She strained her eyes in the darkness, but could not make out the man’s form. “Iseult?” she questioned.

  “Yes. Did you see what happened to the others?”

  Bedelia shook her head, then cringed in pain. Realizing he probably couldn’t see her regardless, she explained, “I lost sight of everyone in the blizzard. I have not seen them since.”

  He did not reply.

  She resituated herself, gasping at the pain in her shoulder. Cursed injuries. “You’re the last person I expected to be captured,” she commented, then instantly regretted it. She could make such a comment to Kai or Anna, but saying such things to Iseult might prove dangerous.

  He was silent for several moments in which she imagined him creeping closer to kill her, then he sighed, “I actually thought I was dead at first, until you arrived. Death would have been preferable to this entrapment.”

  Bedelia agreed, given the horrible fate that likely awaited them both. “So what do we do now?”

  “We wait,” he replied. “Our wounds were tended for a reason. Likely so the Aos Sí can torture information out of us.” He was silent for a moment. “If you tell them anything about Finn, I will kill you myself.”

  So he’d been wounded, then bandaged? Hopefully that meant her head wound wasn’t severe, since it had been left unattended. “I wouldn’t do that,” she assured, thinking of Finn and where she might be. “I’m quite sure she’s the only friend I’ve ever had.”

  “And yet, you have not been honest with her.” There was no hint of accusation in his tone, he was simply stating a fact.

  “I had my reasons,” she sighed. “Though at this point, they do not seem important.”

  The silence stretched out until Iseult said, “Tell me. You should express them at least once before you die.”

  She snorted. “Then you’ll tell me yours?”

  �
�No.”

  Her soft chuckle hurt her chest. Perhaps she took a rock to the ribs during her fall, not that another injury mattered among the others. “I suppose I should start from the beginning.” She took a steadying breath. “I had been traveling with a mercenary group, longing for freedom, when I met the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. I gave her my heart. Little did I know, she had no heart to give me in return . . . ”

  Finn woke to the sound of hushed whispers. Her unicorn was a solid, warm weight behind her head and upper shoulders. Tired and confused, she slowly opened her eyes. Countless brightly colored shapes flitted around her face. They seemed to glow with a gentle light that would have likely been much stronger had it still been dark outside.

  She blinked several times, focusing on the shapes. The glitter of wings, beating impossibly fast, became apparent. She tried to jump back, but instead just thunked the back of her head against the unicorn as one of the shapes darted in to hover right before her nose. A tiny woman, draped in purple gauze that perfectly matched her wings and hair, hovered before her.

  “G-greetings,” Finn stammered, curiosity and caution warring within her.

  “Greetings, my lady,” the little woman buzzed back, her voice a lovely high pitch like tinkling bells. “We did not mean to wake you. We simply hoped to learn what one of the Aonbheannach was doing this close to the lands of man.”

  “Ah-von-ash?” Finn questioned, slowly sounding out the word.

  “The horned creature you are so rudely lying upon,” the little woman explained. Her fellow winged friends continued to flit about, glittering in the sunlight.