His body erupted in goosebumps as he thought back to the cloaked riders. He hadn’t needed to see their faces to know there was something . . . off about them. Just like Moírne had said, they seemed almost like ghosts. Ghosts that could easily kill him.
He sat up, ignoring the cold sweat dripping down his back. He knew well enough where Finn would be heading if she happened to decide it unwise to enter Garenoch, or if the lurking riders blocked her way. He could go there, but would he simply be leading the riders right to her?
He stroked his fingers over the locket still dangling around his neck. Would the riders still sense it if he took it off and left it in the burgh with Anna so he could find Finn? Or, should he leave the burgh and ride far away from where Finn was heading, to once again lead them away?
He shook his head, truly wishing he could speak with Móirne again, but perhaps she could not enter the burgh, just like her kin.
Unable to quiet his mind, he silently crept out of bed and exited the room. He could still hear a measure of commotion below from the inn’s patrons. Perhaps he could persuade Sativola to buy him a drink. Or two.
Or three.
Chapter Fifteen
Finn crept back into the forest, away from the main road. She had almost reached Garenoch when she noticed the riders. Clouds obscured the moon, leaving her with little light to see by, but they were clearly watching Garenoch. The six figures, mounted on calm horses, stood side by side, observing the small burgh. For what, she did not know, but just seeing the riders filled her with overwhelming dread.
Loinnir stepped lightly behind her, following her into the cover of the trees. Once the riders were well out of sight, she climbed onto the unicorn’s back, entwined her fingers with its mane, and took off at a gallop. She wanted as much distance between herself and the ominous riders as possible, and if she could not reach Garenoch, she would simply go to Greenswallow first. Perhaps she’d find Àed there, and if not, she’d retrieve the shroud then seek her friends.
Once she felt a safe distance had been gained, she asked Loinnir to slow. It wouldn’t do to ride away from one danger, only to unwittingly ride into another. Her nervous breath fogged the air as they slowed. All was still.
They continued on throughout the night. Eventually the moon was replaced by the sun, and her surroundings began to feel familiar. She was close to her meadow.
“This was my home for a very long time,” she explained to Loinnir, though she was still unsure if the unicorn actually understood her words, or somehow just sensed her desires. “I hope we can find the correct spot,” she continued. “It might be a bit difficult to distinguish now that no tree stands there. We might be digging for quite a while.”
Loinnir flicked her mane, but did not otherwise reply. Her ivory horn was still hidden by magic, so she just appeared a rather fine white horse. Neither of them should draw any extra attention as they passed the small farms leading to her previous home.
She was pleased to see the first stream of chimney smoke as they neared. These people, at least, were yet to be chased off by the Faie or An Fiach. A few moments later, an elderly farmer came into view, tending his crops, though the cold had withered them seemingly beyond repair.
The sight plucked at her heart. So many had been affected by the recent chaos, not just her. She’d venture to say they were affected even more, not less. She had never known a life of true peace, barring when she was a tree, and so, she had no true peace to lose.
She began to search her meadow as they neared, attempting to pinpoint the exact place she’d stood as a tree. Eventually her eyes found Àed’s small stone hut. No smoke rose from its chimney, and the entrance was overgrown with vines. She tried not to cry. He might not be where she’d hoped, but she would find him. She had to.
Turning her gaze away from the hut, she thought back to her first walk there, just after she’d turned back into her current form. Àed had found her in the middle of the field, and had helped her hobble to his hut as she slowly learned how to use her legs.
Loinnir walked along unbidden, ambling serenely across the meadow. Finn observed each tree she passed, hoping for something familiar, then it hit her. As if sensing her revelation, Loinnir suddenly halted.
“This is it,” Finn gasped. She turned her gaze to the distant mountains, then to a large boulder several paces away. Loinnir’s hooves had landed on the exact soil where Finn had once taken root. She felt it with every nerve ending in her body.
She dismounted, then fell to her knees as Loinnir moved out of the way. Though rain and wind had mostly repacked the soil, it was still a little more loose in this area, with less yellow grass threatening to take hold.
Her entire body trembled with excitement as she began to dig.
Iseult slumped in the saddle, defeated. Bedelia had been the first to fall, dropping to her knees, unable to move any further. He went not long after. Now, they were both too exhausted to put up any fight. Though their chains remained, they were finally allowed to ride.
Naoki had led them in a direct line southwest, no matter what lay in their path. Once they’d had to change course to walk around a wide lake, and for several hours after that fought their way through a forest thick with wild brambles.
They’d long since crossed the Sand Road, and continued on the other side. By Iseult’s estimation, they’d bypassed Garenoch, which was further south. It was only a day’s journey from Garenoch to Greenswallow, which meant Finn was not far off. He could only hope she would find the shroud and flee before Oighear reached her, but he knew it was unlikely. Once Finn found the shroud, she would try to find him, which meant either waiting in Greenswallow, or Garenoch.
In the state he was in now, he would only be able to watch on as Oighear confronted her. He honestly did not know which of them would win the battle, but Oighear had the upper hand. She was cruel and cunning, no stranger to using her powers for harm. Finn would hesitate to cause any damage, just as she had with the assassins.
He stiffened his back, realizing Oighear was watching him from her mount, smiling.
“Don’t worry,” she purred. “Once the Cavari girl is gone, you can follow a real queen.”
Iseult simply stared at her, too tired to exchange insults, for what little good it would do.
“Watch him closely,” she said to one of the Aos Sí. “He’s bound to try something foolish.”
The Aos Sí riding around them nodded. Iseult slumped forward in his saddle once more. Even if he could somehow defeat Oighear, he would then have to deal with ten Aos Sí warriors. Part of him wished they would just kill him now, as there was little hope of saving his soul, or Finn. Yet, he would not ask for death. He’d been on this journey his entire life, and he was about to see it through to the bitter end.
“Are you sure about this?” Kai asked, his heart thundering in anticipation.
Ealasaid nodded, her face grim. “If this will help Finn, we have to do it.”
Anna, Sativola, and Maarav stood nearby, weapons ready.
Kai swallowed the lump in his throat. He’d only meant to tell Anna and Sativola that he was leaving to lead the riders astray. He couldn’t risk Finn coming to Garenoch, unaware of what awaited her. He lifted his hand to the sore spot on his jaw where Anna had punched him for being a fool. She’d used many other choice descriptors, before Maarav and Ealasaid had interrupted. With little explanation, they’d urged Anna, Sativola, and himself to follow them to the edge of town where a group of magic users would be waiting. It had seemed utterly ridiculous at the time, yet here they all were.
Kai shuddered and brought himself back to the present, surrounded by strangers with a horse at his side. Anna and Sativola waited amongst the strangers, weapons gleaming in the early morning sun.
An old woman named Grelka, who he’d learned had orchestrated the early morning congregation, spoke in hushed tones to Ealasaid. Kai watched as Ealasaid frowned, then nodded to some quiet question. Both women turned then their gazes forward.
> One by one, more townsfolk showed up to gather around Ealasaid and Grelka. As their presence grew, an odd tingle began to circulate through the air, or perhaps it was just Kai’s imagination. They were all magic users, secretly banding together to protect not only themselves, but their kinsfolk.
“This will work,” Ealasaid muttered, quietly reassuring herself as she moved to Kai’s side, followed by Grelka. Ealasaid repeatedly clenched and unclenched her hands, as if warming up her magic.
A sandy-haired boy Kai had not met stepped out of the crowd, grinning from ear to ear. “I, for one, cannot think of a better way to recruit more members to An Solas. Once others see what we can do, they’ll be flocking toward us in droves.”
Grelka chuckled, then turned her gaze to Ealasaid. “Do not worry. This is the right choice. Everything will be as it’s meant to be.”
Kai frowned at them, not understanding half of what they were talking about.
“Grelka is a seer,” Ealasaid explained.
Kai nodded in acceptance, though he didn’t really see it as much of an explanation. Anna’s visions of immediate danger were one thing, but no one could truly know the future. Still, Grelka thought his task of the utmost importance, and he wasn’t sure why. Upon his arrival to the group, she’d said to him the same thing she’d just said to Ealasaid. “Everything will be as it’s meant to be.”
“It’s time,” Grelka suddenly snapped.
Ealasaid raised her arms skyward, along with the sandy-haired boy, and the other gathered townsfolk. Many more townsfolk lingered near the buildings at the edge of town, awaiting whatever spectacle was about to take place.
Anna met Kai’s gaze and nodded. It was time for him to prepare as well.
He led his horse a few paces away from the group, then slung himself into the saddle. He lifted his free hand to grip the locket still at his throat and turned his gaze outward.
One of the townsfolk had spotted the riders early that morning, waiting. It had proven true that they would not, or could not enter the burgh, so the magic users would bring the fight to them.
As the final magic users raised their arms skyward, pressure began to build, like the eerie calm before the sky opened up to a massive storm. It continued to build for several heartbeats, then Ealasaid shouted, “Go!”
Kai jabbed his heels into his horse, then took off at a gallop. He glanced over his shoulder to see the distant riders launching into motion. The ground exploded all around, dirt flying everywhere. Lightning stabbed at what protruded, followed by waves of fire. Winds blew so powerfully that even from the distance, Kai was nearly swept from his mount.
Trusting in Ealasaid and the others, he leaned forward in the saddle and urged his horse into a full blown run, down the road toward Greenswallow.
“Again!” Ealasaid shouted.
Another wave of magic surrounded the Riders, who had not been slowed for long. Though impacted by the magic, injuries were not sustained as the Riders would fade from sight, avoiding peril, only to reappear in pursuit of Kai.
Ealasaid cried out, “We must stop them another way! Forward!”
Anna, Sativola, and Maarav, now on their horses, were the first to ride forward, prepared to intercept the Riders. The magic users were not far behind, some riding, some running at full speed.
Running as fast as she could, Ealasaid watched as those on horseback met the Riders, soon backed up by those on foot. Though their enemies numbered only six, the magic users began to fall beneath gleaming blades. Those still standing fought on. She knew they trusted Grelka’s proclamation that the Riders must be stopped at all costs, even if it meant many would die.
Her lungs burning from exertion, Ealasaid reached the fight, then froze. She watched as Anna parried an attack from one of the dark Riders, then Sativola jumped in, sparing Anna injury. Ealasaid lifted her arms, but wasn’t sure what to do. Some of the magic users could create fire, which could be aimed, but her lightning tended to be more erratic. Sure, she could hit one of the Riders, but there was nothing to prevent her from hitting one of her friends.
She screamed as a Rider slashed a short sword at Ouve, and her lightning came down almost unbidden, distracting Ouve’s attacker. Seeming to sense an opportunity, Maarav darted in and slashed his blade deep into the attacker’s leg, toppling the Rider to the ground.
Ealasaid gasped with momentary elation, before the Rider rolled to its feet and cut down the first magic user, a young woman, who got in its path. Ealasaid screamed, but it was too late. The woman fell in a bloody heap, her face in the dirt.
Ealasaid struck the offending Rider again with her lightning, but it was no use. The Riders seemed invincible. Grelka must have misjudged the situation. They would have to fall back to the safety of the burgh, lest they all lose their lives.
She was prepared to give the order, then her eyes nearly popped out of her skull at what she saw.
Black clad forms raced forward from the tree line, weapons raised high. She recognized Maarav’s former mentor, Slàine, as she launched herself through the air and swiped her blade across the hooded neck of one of the riders. To Ealasaid’s surprise, the rider toppled from its horse. It fell to the ground and was swarmed with black clad forms, like wolves piling on top of their prey. Weapons flashed, then the assassins fell away. Beneath them was an empty black cloak.
Hope renewed, Ealasaid flung lightning at another rider, distracting it for the split second it took for the assassins to attack. Seeming to catch on, the other magic users renewed their attacks, bathing the riders in flame and ice. One by one, they were taken down, by magic and blades alike, leaving behind empty cloaks. Their horses galloped away to disappear into the forest, as impervious to their wounds as the Riders.
Ealasaid rushed forward as Anna repeatedly stabbed the remaining form, even after it had turned into nothing more than a cloak.
“Where did they go?” one of the new members of An Solas asked, glancing around frantically.
“They are nothing more than ghosts,” Slàine hissed, lowering her black cowl from her face as she stalked forward. “Overwhelm them with physical attacks and they cannot sustain themselves.”
“We couldn’t harm them with our magic,” Ealasaid panted.
Slàine nodded. “They are magic. The best way to send them away is cold iron,” she hesitated at the expression on Ealasaid’s flushed, blood-flecked face, “but you at least proved a noble distraction,” she added. She turned her attention away from Ealasaid and seemed to be counting her assassins. Several had fallen in the short, chaotic fight.
Ealasaid searched around the empty cloaks, assessing the casualties. A certain gray-haired lump caught her eye. She rushed forward toward Grelka, who clutched at her knit shawl, blood slowly blossoming across her chest.
Reaching her, Ealasaid dropped to her knees, placing a shaky hand gently on her shoulder. Grelka’s face was ghostly pale, her eyes mere slits.
“I thought you said things were as they should be,” Ealasaid cried, feeling like her heart was being torn in two. “I thought we would be victorious.”
Grelka led out a gasping laugh that ended with her sputtering up blood. “We are,” she hissed. “Kai will make it in time. His success is all that truly matters.”
“But-” she hesitated, glancing at the fallen around her. Too many corpses littered the battlefield, some even younger than she. “Was it worth so many lives?”
Grelka patted Ealasaid’s hand weakly. “This had to happen . . . for us to stand a chance,” she gasped. “In my dreams I saw two paths. One, where we would fight for our lives, but live free from hiding, and another, where we would cower and live as slaves.” She smiled softly. “I’ve never backed down from a proper fight, and now it is your turn. Lead An Solas into a new age.” Her eyes slowly fluttered shut.
Though she’d known Grelka a short time, her loss felt great, along with the others of An Solas that had fallen. Tears streamed down her face and plopped onto her bloody hands, still gripping Grelka’
s lifeless form. She could not bear to observe the other casualties. She’d seen that Anna was still alive, but many others had died. She struggled as arms wrapped around her from behind, lifting her to standing. She sensed her new captor was only trying to help, but she didn’t want it. She didn’t want to think. She clenched her eyes shut, unable to bear the sight of the maimed dead.
The arms around her resisted her struggles until she went limp and cracked open her teary eyes. She craned her neck to see a familiar blood-stained face next to hers. Maarav. She exhaled in relief, realizing the possibility of his death had been the one she feared most. She managed to smile up at him through her tears, but he was looking toward Slàine.
“I’d expected a dagger in the back the next time we crossed paths,” he commented coolly.
Stepping away from the empty cloak she’d been examining, Slàine glared at him. “You always were a bit of a fool. I’d hoped to prevent any of this.”
His arms still around Ealasaid, he waited for Slàine to explain herself.
Instead, she turned to her fellow assassins. “Help them burn their dead,” she ordered, “then meet us at the inn.” She turned back to Maarav. “We have much to discuss.”
Finn scraped frantically at the earth. Her skin had long since been rubbed raw, her fingernails cracked and filled with black soil. She could feel power radiating from the earth below her, but it was still out of reach. Though Loinnir fidgeted with worry, Finn could not take the time to consider the cause. She just knew she had to reach the shroud before Oighear, the Cavari, or anyone else could show up to snatch it away from her.
Something cool touched her sweaty cheek, drawing her momentarily from her task. Snowflakes. Had Oighear’s snow reached this far? Was she coming for her? Her fervor increasing, she turned back to her digging while Loinnir stomped in agitation beside her.
More snowflakes stung her face, and began sticking to her tangled hair. She glanced again at the white flecks drifting in, then narrowed her eyes at something in the distance. Riders, six of them. The central rider wore a full, white fur coat, frothing up around her shoulders to meld with her white hair. Oighear. Near the hooves of Oighear’s horse was a smaller white form, stooped low to the ground. She couldn’t quite make out what it was. As she watched, several more riders moved into view to flank the others.
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