“You look stressed,” Yvette said from over his shoulder. “Is Bran still unwell?”
Brendan stifled a groan. He realised there was a limited amount of space on the boat, but the woman showed up everywhere he turned.
“He’s improving.” He forced himself to smile when he turned to face her. She was perfectly pleasant, beautiful to look at, and rarely argumentative, so what was his problem?
“I know how you feel,” she said, making him flinch. “I’m restless, too.”
He laughed. “I admit, I could do with a decent hunt on a good horse. I miss steady land, and the Great Forest, and… so many other things.”
“We’ll find land soon. From the stories, the daoine sídhe who fled were in a smaller boat than this. They couldn’t have made it much farther.”
He gazed out at the sea. Unless the storm had blown them far away from land. He fought off that thought. The last thing his soldiers needed was his pessimism to bring them down.
“Well.” Yvette gently touched his chin to make him look at her. The heat in her eyes likely matched his own. “There’s plenty of entertainment for you here, too. Just follow me to my room and see.”
He watched her leave. He was tempted. It was a couple of years of stress that he needed to work off. He ran his hands across his face. If he had any sense, he would follow Yvette and play nice. If he had any sense, he would never have had a human in his company long enough to—
A shout from the crow’s nest drew his attention upward.
“Land ahoy!” the sailor cried out joyfully.
Brendan’s legs weakened. They had made it. Finally, they had crossed the treacherous sea.
***
It took another two days to reach land. Brendan, accompanied by Bran and the four volunteers, gathered at the stern and watched as the island grew before them.
One of the soldiers, a petite female named Alyss was trembling. “I never thought I’d see it,” she said. “My grandfather died wishing he could cross the sea, and now I’ve done it.”
“Do you think we’ll find what we’re looking for?” Bran asked.
“We must hope,” Brendan said. “Are you up for an adventure, Bran?”
“Always,” Bran said resolutely.
As they neared the shore, he turned and called out to Yvette. “I’ll go first, taking three of my people with me. I think the rest of you should stay in the boat while we investigate.”
“If you think that’s best,” Yvette said.
That surprised him. She had been so focused on getting across the sea that she had bribed him with the boat, and now she was satisfied with remaining behind. It made little sense.
“Bran, Pól, Alyss… with me. Take as few supplies as we can manage. We want to travel light.” The trio ran to prepare. “Be ready for anything,” Brendan murmured to the two soldiers left behind. “Stay constantly alert.” He hesitated. “Trust no one.”
The pair nodded faithfully.
When the others returned, Brendan said, “We have no idea what’s out there, but it was enough to drive the daoine sídhe away, and they’re our giants. We all need to be careful.”
Yvette called for the ship to be anchored at an excessively long distance from the island.
“Here?” Brendan said in surprise.
“Oh, maybe I just want to see you work your way across,” Yvette said. “We don’t want to get too close to the island. It could be rocky under the surface of the water. The last thing we need is for the ship to sink.”
Brendan and his soldiers hefted their supplies onto their backs and waited while the ship was anchored. Yvette stood by Brendan’s side as her crew released a small rowing boat that had been strapped to the side of the ship.
“That’s what came to mind when you told me you had a boat,” Brendan said to fill the silence between them.
She rested her hand on her hip. “That little thing. I don’t do things by halves.”
He rolled his shoulders as a cold feeling crept up his spine. Everything sounded ominous to him of late. He had to blame the lack of dry land. He touched the sword of victory before leading his soldiers onto the rowing boat.
He and Pól took the oars. The group moved quickly through meek waves.
“It looks beautiful here,” Alyss said, dipping her hand into the lapping waves. “Nothing like the sea at home.”
Brendan didn’t disagree. The sea was aquamarine, the beach full of soft golden sand. Beyond that was a vibrant forest in every hue of green. At least they would have cover.
They came to shore and left the rowing boat wedged in the sand.
“It’s so good to be on land again,” Brendan said with a grin as he stretched his long arms. “And now for our next adventure, we should—”
A strange sound echoed right before a massive boulder hit the sand next to their rowing boat.
Stunned, the soldiers gaped at the oversized projectile until Brendan gathered his wits and commanded them all to run for the trees. A second boulder landed, this time in the water.
“The ship!” Bran cried. “They’re trying to destroy the ship!”
“If they succeed, we’ll never get home.” Brendan knew how vital it was that they returned. “Go!” he shouted at the ship. All four of them waved and gestured for the ship to move. The anchor had already been raised, Brendan realised. The ship moved out of reach of the third boulder just in time. A howl of rage sounded in the distance.
Another boulder crashed against the rowing boat, effectively destroying it. Brendan looked away, unable to watch.
The group hid amongst the trees in silence lest there was an army hidden in the midst of the forest. No more boulders were flung, but the ship was already out of sight.
“There goes our way home,” Alyss said mournfully.
“Good thing the ship was so far from shore,” Pól said.
“Good thing?” Alyss’s voice trembled. “We’re stuck here.”
“We’re not stuck,” Brendan said firmly. “They won’t abandon us.” He hoped. “There won’t be anything to go home to if we don’t succeed. We must find the First Tree, and we must bring it home, even if we have to build our own bloody boat, or everyone we know and care about is lost.” He gazed out at the boulders. “And I don’t want to stay here a moment longer than we have to.”
“We not even sure what the First Tree looks like,” she protested.
“We’ve all seen the images from Yvette’s book,” Brendan said. “We cannot fail now, no matter what kind of monsters we encounter here.”
The ground shuddered. Brendan felt it under his feet.
“What was that?” Bran hissed.
The vibrations increased, accompanied by other unrecognisable sounds.
“Whatever it is, it’s coming this way,” Alyss said.
“It almost sounds like trees being uprooted,” Pól said, barely containing his horror.
“This way,” came an unfamiliar voice from above. “Quickly, before you’re seen.”
Brendan looked up. It took him a second, but he found a figure hunched on a branch, every inch of their skin painted with mud. The stranger leapt in front of them, tall, but feminine. She beckoned them to follow, then took off in a sprint.
Brendan looked at his doubtful soldiers, then shrugged his acceptance.
“Come on,” he commanded. “I’d rather take my chances with this one over whatever’s behind us.”
They raced after the camouflaged woman, struggling to keep up. A number of times, Brendan lost sight of the person leading them—his gaze skating over the green and brown amongst the foliage—but she would reappear if they fell behind.
The shuddering underfoot soon lessened, and Brendan wondered what had caused it. But he felt alive, running through that strange forest on solid ground.
They finally left the safety of the trees and quickly crossed an overgrown meadow. The grass was waist-high, even for Brendan, who was well over six foot tall. Alyss, barely over five foot, struggled until B
rendan jokingly offered to carry her on his shoulders. She determinedly pushed through the grass after that, gaining on the men.
The group ran down a slanted patch of land, and then their leader vanished, disappearing right in front of their eyes. The four of them came to a stop, panting.
“Where did he go?” Pól said.
“She.” The woman popped up from what must have been a secret hole in the ground. She grinned, and her teeth flashed white. “Follow me.”
“To where?” Bran asked.
“The mounds,” she said as though he were foolish. “We’re going underground to see my people.” She shook her head as she gazed at them. “It’s been a long time since we saw anyone like you all. I saw your ship. That surely means only one thing.” She disappeared again.
“Wait!” Brendan cried, too late. Had she been expecting them?
His soldiers investigated the secret entrance. “There’s a long tunnel here!”
Bran looked at Brendan. “What are you thinking?”
“We don’t have a choice. Whoever lives here will know more about the boulders and the First Tree. Maybe they’ll give us a map of the island. We’ve lost the ship for now, but we still need to continue with our mission.”
They all agreed. Brendan made to enter the tunnel first, but Bran got in the way. “I’ll go first,” the boy said so firmly that Brendan didn’t have the heart to stop him.
Bran jumped down, followed by Brendan once the boy shouted up that he was okay. The tunnel was part of the earth. Brendan imagined forgotten fae digging into the dirt to escape… what, exactly?
For a time, the tunnel was so dark that they were forced to use their hands to feel their way. The earthen walls were moist at first, but the farther they travelled, the drier the dirt became. It smelled old and dead, but it was still healthier than the soil back home.
As the tunnel widened, flickering torches appeared, giving them some light. The tunnel itself was long and winding; they passed by a number of sections that had apparently collapsed.
“Not feeling so safe right now,” Bran said shakily.
“Come on!” a shadowy figure shouted from ahead, her voice echoing. The tunnel veered right then split. The strange woman waved her hand then ducked into the left fork.
Instinctively, they all increased their speed. They ran through the tunnel, past the fork, and took another couple of turns before they were finally able to stop. What they saw made them all gasp.
Underground, in the… mound was a village of sorts.
“What is this place?” Bran asked, looking about him in wonder.
Pillars—both stone and wooden—and planks of wood kept the earth above their heads from falling in. The curved walls were plainly carved out of stone.
“It was a quarry once,” the woman said, hopping from one foot to the other. She was absolutely filthy. Her hair had been braided back and covered with mud. Even her fingernails were completely darkened by dirt. “I’ll take you to the elder. You can tell her everything. Hurry!”
As they walked between huts, people peeped outside to stare at them. The place wasn’t lit by torches, likely because of all the wood, but rather, little glass jars full of fireflies were hung in every possible location—over doorways, from planks of wood, even their path was marked with jars.
“This is so strange,” Bran whispered under his breath, awe glittering in his eyes. “It’s like a dream.”
They slowly followed after the girl until they reached the largest home at the far end of the little community. The girl was beside herself with excitement. She urged them inside the home made of stone. Inside was one large but stuffy living space with a makeshift fireplace, and a fire. Smoke moved through pipes upward, likely outside.
Despite all of the wood outside, there was none in the home. A pile of mattresses made up a bed against one wall. There were no chairs or tables. Every possession was laid out on the floor.
An old woman sat on a rug before the fire, grinding herbs in a stone bowl. The back of her bald head was covered in tattooed marks that Brendan couldn’t begin to decipher. She looked up, entirely unsurprised by their presence.
“Finally.” She set down the bowl and stood. She was almost as tall as Brendan. “They sent you.”
Brendan frowned, too confused to reply.
The woman continued. “You’re here to defeat the Fir Bolg for good, aren’t you?”
“Fir Bolg?” He shook his head. “No, we’re here for the First Tree.”
The woman glanced at the girl who had led them there. “Eira, these are the people from the ship?”
“Yes,” Eira said. “The ship left because the giants flung rocks. These are the only ones who came ashore.”
“And they’re so small.” The old woman sounded disappointed. “Too small to be our kin.” Her eyes lingered on Brendan. “But I was so sure.”
“Dafina, is it really true?” Eira asked in dismay. “Are these not the ones?”
“Who were you expecting?” Bran asked.
The old woman, Dafina, sat and picked up her bowl again. “Many generations ago, some of our ancestors left to find aid. The rest of us were driven underground.”
“By these Fir Bolg?” Brendan asked.
She blinked in surprise. “Where are you from that you know not of the Fir Bolg?”
“Across the sea,” he said. “Where are we? There’s a blight in our land. We heard of a tree that might help us cleanse the earth.”
“They’re talking about our trees,” Eira said. “They are, aren’t they?”
“Perhaps,” Dafina replied.
Brendan looked at the elder woman. “Your trees?”
“The Crann Bheatha,” Eira said dreamily.
“The Tree of Life.” The old woman pressed her lips together so tightly that they disappeared completely. “Perhaps you should tell us your story.”
“Only if you’ll tell us yours,” Brendan said quickly.
She allowed him a smile.
“Are you daoine sídhe?” Bran asked.
Dafina exchanged a surprised glance with Eira. “You know of us?”
“Daoine sídhe fled to our land a long time ago, running from beings they described as giants. Nobody’s crossed the sea between our lands since,” Brendan said. “Where are we?”
“This is Banba. You don’t look Formorian, so you’re not from Ériu. That’s the closest land to us.”
“They must be from Inis Fáil,” the girl said enthusiastically. “It’s real, Dafina!”
“It was once known by that name,” Brendan said, “until the land was divided by Brighid.”
“Brighid escaped the mad god?” The old woman brightened. “Then it’s not too late.”
Escaped?
“Who are you waiting for exactly?” Brendan asked.
“Our history is long and tragic,” she said. “The Fir Bolg were the last to come to destroy us. We couldn’t defeat the giants, and most of our gods had already retreated to the Otherworld. We followed the gods known as Tuatha de Danann, and you must, too, if you know of Brighid, for she is our Danu’s granddaughter. We tend the trees you seek with the uisce bheatha, the water of life, and we worship the crows who protect our fate.”
That caught Brendan’s attention. “Crows? Why?”
“The crows are a sign that we are not truly lost. As long as they remain, we know that one day, Badb will return to defeat the Fir Bolg for good.”
“Badb?” A shiver ran down Brendan’s spine. “The warrior queen? That’s who you are waiting for?”
“Yes. When she reaches her true potential, she will be known as the Morrigan, and when she has been resurrected three times, she will be accepted into Mag Mell as her reward.”
“What’s Mag Mell?” Alyss asked.
Eira pursed her lips. “They know so little.”
“Mag Mell is the Delightful Plain,” Dafina explained. “It’s the true afterlife for those deserving, where heroes and gods alike roam in splendour and contentm
ent.”
Brendan felt ill. The Darksiders called Cara Badb. And if two different lands had stories of her…
Bran opened his mouth, his eyes bright with excitement. Brendan nudged him and gave a brief shake of his head. Nobody could connect Cara to these people’s problems.
“You say there is a blight on your land,” the old woman said, her eyes narrowing. “What caused it?”
“We’re not completely sure,” Brendan admitted. “We thought it was from a rift in the Fade, but there’s evidence that a god came into play, that perhaps this happened before, and our people allowed themselves to forget.”
“Ériu had a blight,” Eira said. She had knelt by the old woman to help her grind her herbs. The people who had watched them from their huts had all been dirty, but the old woman was spotless.
“It did,” Dafina said. “But the Formorians who caused it were banished. Perhaps they found a way to your land. When Brighid didn’t return from her final great journey, we thought her lost.”
Brendan’s stomach twisted. These people seemed to be closer to the gods than his own had ever been. What journeys had Brighid gone on?
“In our land, the daoine sídhe are champions,” Bran said. “We’re kind of surprised that anything could defeat your people.”
“We are strong, yes, warriors, yes, but long wars dwindled our numbers, and the giants are no easy foe. It will take great magic and sacrifice to defeat those creatures. They are only concerned with destruction.” She gazed at Brendan. “You have noble blood. You could be one of our own.”
“My mother’s line shares daoine sídhe blood,” Brendan said.
“He’s a king,” Bran said proudly.
“But not the king,” Brendan added with a smile.
“You have the look of a god about you,” the old woman said wistfully. “For an instant, I thought you were a child of Danu reborn. The gods will one day return. I hope I am alive to see it.” She bit her lip. “But perhaps my true journey lies elsewhere. You seek the trees?”
“Yes, we need them to cleanse the blight from the land. It’s unusable until we do,” Brendan explained. “The blight has destroyed our land, and children afflicted with this taint turn into deformed things.”
Kings: Chaos Book 5.5 Page 5