Dawn of Magic: Sea of Flames

by Sara C. Roethle

  Branwen nodded slowly. “Alright, so you need me, because you think me more likely to gain her trust. But that leaves one thing unexplained. What’s in it for me?”

  He rubbed his brow, gently shaking his head, then lifted his gaze. “You’re terribly dense, aren’t you? I will grant you your revenge.”

  “But you said it yourself, you cannot even locate the Travelers.”

  He lowered his hand and stepped toward her. She could feel his sudden anger like ants marching across her skin. His face seemed to hold a million different faces. Young, old, male, female. “Belenus plans on saving the non-magic mortals. He grants them plentiful crops and safe walls. He desires their worship, for that is what gives gods their power. Once he is gone, that power will be there for me to take, and once I have it, none shall be able to hide from me. You will be owed a favor from the only god in existence. Does that not sway you?”

  She realized she was cowering, and forced herself to straighten. “I suppose it’s as you say, I don’t really have a choice, do I?”

  “No, you do not, but it is in your best interest to assist me willingly.”

  She held out her hand. “All I want is vengeance for my brother. Grant me that, and I will do whatever you ask of me.”

  He looked at her hand like it was a putrid rodent covered in grime, then up to her face. “Go to Finnur. You were friends once. Convince her you are there to aid her.”

  “Why? She’s already doing what you want.”

  “Because when the time comes, she’ll need to trust me too. She’ll need my help to defeat Belenus. Until then, you will not mention me.”

  She let her hand drop. “Fine.”

  “Good girl.” He turned away, and in a sudden eruption of shadows, was gone.

  Branwen took one last look around the cellar, wondering exactly where they were, and how far she had to travel to find Finn. It didn’t really matter. Arawn had given her a better plan than she could have ever conjured. She didn’t really trust him to keep his promise, not for her sake, at least. But the death of a god would draw the Ceàrdaman out of hiding. Whenever history was being made, the Travelers liked to be nearby to tug at the threads and shape them to their will. She would gladly use those threads to hang them.

  Ealasaid

  Ealasaid’s soft boots barely made a sound as she paced across the stone floor. Her dress swung gently with her steps. She cradled Elias against her chest, fast asleep. She’d heard horror stories of other mothers with babes up at all hours of night, but Elias had been a sound nighttime sleeper as soon as he was able to go a full night without feeding.

  It was well he was asleep now, lest he sense the growing tension in the room.

  Standing near the crackling hearth, she turned toward the long table where the others were seated. Maarav, Eywen, Sage, and Slàine all waited for her to speak. Waited for her to make a decision that felt impossible to make—not without great risk.

  “We cannot just depend on Finnur,” Slàine reiterated. “We need food. Resources. We must expand.”

  Sage glared at her, then swiped a palm nervously over his short dark hair when the glare was returned. They’d gotten along less and less—the general of the mages, and what equated to the general of the assassins—but Sage was no fool. Slàine could easily cut him down before he could send a stream of fire her way.

  Watching them both, Ealasaid shook her head. “I know we must expand, but how? The forests to the west are out of the question because of the faie. To the east, the river and impassible cliffs limit space.”

  “To the north, then,” Maarav suggested.

  She looked to Eywen to see if he agreed, but his gaze was on his hands. He’d barely spoken all evening. Was he thinking of Anna, or was there something else she didn’t know?

  “To the north,” Slàine agreed, obviously, since Maarav had been the one to voice the idea.

  Ealasaid looked to Sage. “What do you think?”

  Sage rubbed his furrowed brow. For someone just as young as she, he looked like he’d seen far too much, and had barely lived to tell the tale. “It’s all well and good to say we’ll expand north, and with our magic, walls can be erected quickly, but what of supplies? What of food to feed the workers?”

  “We’ll send a scouting party toward the northern burghs,” Slàine decided. “We may be banned from trade with Sormyr, which cuts off the costal port towns, but there are smaller ports along the River Cair. We’ll trade with them. We’ve a surplus of weaponry, and the relatively unprotected ports will jump at such items. While that party is out, plans will begin to extend the burgh walls.”

  Maarav snorted. “You were cooped up within Áit I Bhfolach for too long. You wildly overestimate the supplies these port towns will have. Even before the barrier fell, they were largely dependent on trade with Migris. Now,” he shook his head, “Àed and Bedelia came from Port Ainfean. While the port still stands, and they have not yet starved, trade with other ports was limited. They could perhaps provide us with fish from the river, which we could do ourselves if we protected enough of its banks to set up larger nets.”

  Ealasaid didn’t bother mentioning that Garenoch’s river was too shallow to provide enough fish to feed an entire burgh, and he was right, Slàine had spent too many years in the safety of her small hidden city far north, where attacks were few, and fish were plentiful from the sea. Protecting the river banks here was a last resort, if nearby game ran too low. What they really needed was protected land for livestock.

  Elias whimpered in his sleep. Ealasaid gently bobbed him in her arms, soothing him. These meetings were always like this. Suggestions made and cut down. Only this time was different. They had to act. They’d hidden within the safety of the walls too long, and she’d overestimated how long supplies would last. Her people were going hungry, having to ration supplies, and it was her fault. There was no other choice but to act.

  Her body radiated tension. “What about further north than Ainfean? Do any other cities still stand?”

  Slàine sneered. “Perhaps the ruins of Uí Néid are still inhabited.”

  “By reivers,” Maarav added.

  She remembered Conall and his band of reivers all too well. Fueled by grief for her lost kin, she’d almost been fooled into joining them. She pursed her lips. “You know, it’s an idea.”

  “Reivers?” Maarav balked. “You do remember our encounters with them?”

  “They are barbarians,” Slàine said plainly. “They would sooner cut us down than trade with us.”

  Ealasaid walked toward the table, then handed Elias to Maarav. Her arms free, she moved toward the open space at the head, then leaned forward against it, palms splayed across the smooth wood. “The reivers are fierce warriors. They have extensive lands in the Northern Wilds, and presumably crops and livestock to feed their people. Soldiers and food. The things we need most.”

  Slàine shook her head. “You’re mad.”

  Maarav grinned. “That’s the thing I like about her.”

  Eywen finally seemed to startle into awareness. “What of the dragons? It would take weeks for a scouting party to reach the Northern Wilds. A handful of mages away from the protection of the burgh would lure dragons like moths to brightly burning flames.”

  “Then only mortals will go,” Maarav suggested. “If they stick to the eastern woods, they could easily travel undetected. Once they reach one of the ports, they could perhaps gain passage along the deeper part of the river.”

  Ealasaid smiled at him. Not that she particularly enjoyed the inherent risk of lives in such a plan, but at least it was a feasible suggestion.

  Slàine glowered. “Of course, it will be my people who go. The only non-mages who are also skilled fighters. Skilled enough to cut down stray faie, should they be encountered.”

  Maarav’s eyes glittered with mischief. “Do you not think they can make it? Have they grown soft?”

  Slàine stood with a huff, scraping the legs of her chair across the stones. “Fine. I wi
ll prepare a scouting party.” She whipped her glare to Sage. “But your mages better start working on expanding the walls and planting crops. I want it all finished upon our return.”

  “You’re going with them?” Maarav interrupted.

  Slàine glanced at Elias. Ealasaid was well aware she considered him her grandson, and was reluctant to leave him. “I cannot ask others to go in my stead. I have asked far too much of them already.”

  Maarav stood, towering over Slàine. Elias all soft and peaceful in his arms was the only thing that kept him from looking utterly menacing in that moment. “You’ll do no such thing, old woman. The younger ones are more able-bodied than you, and you are one of the few people we trust to watch Elias when we cannot.”

  Surprisingly, after a moment of hesitation, Slàine nodded. Ealasaid had noticed long ago how the years had begun to take their toll on her. Her mane of silver hair had begun to thin, and sometimes on cold mornings, she walked like it hurt to move. To those who knew Slàine, these changes had been apparent, but Ealasaid had assumed the stubborn old woman would be the last to acknowledge them.

  Sage and Eywen both stood.

  Sage looked to Ealasaid. “I suppose the two of us will begin planning the expansion in the morning. We’d be useless as scouts.”

  Slàine huffed. “Stating the obvious.”

  Eywen, seeming lost where he stood, finally looked to Ealasaid. “Some of my people could go. I do not think the dragons would track the Aos Sí as they do mages. They seem less concerned with the faie.”

  It seemed he had missed parts of the conversation, but Ealasaid daren’t comment. If he was so worried about Anna, why hadn’t he gone with her?

  Sage shook his head at Eywen’s suggestion. “You have innate magic. Whether the dragons want you or not is of little consequence. You would still draw attention to an otherwise untraceable party.”

  Eywen didn’t argue.

  Ealasaid watched him closely for a moment, but he gave nothing else away. She supposed it wasn’t entirely her business either way, so she let it go. “Let’s all get some rest. We’ll get started in the morning.”

  Nodding and muttering amongst themselves, everyone left the room except for Maarav. Hoisting Elias up more securely, he approached her, then leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Do not let these new developments weigh on you, wife. We do what we must.”

  Her shoulders slumped with her long exhale. She turned and stared into the fire. There had once been tapestries with Gwrtheryn’s clan crest hanging on either side of the stone hearth, but now those spaces stood vacant. Garenoch no longer had a crest, nor a heritage. Its inhabitants came from all across the land for protection. They hadn’t known they’d starve.

  She took a steadying breath. “I know trade with the reivers is unlikely, and enlisting some as soldiers, even with the protection we can offer, even less so. Perhaps Slàine’s party will find enough trade in Ainfean . . . ”

  Holding Elias against his side with one arm, Maarav reached out the other, pulling her back against him. “We won’t let them starve, Eala. This is simply how things go in wartime. It is not your fault supplies have grown low.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “No. It’s not. Most here would be dead if it were not for you.”

  His words gave her little comfort. Even if Finn was successful in her plan, Belenus still needed to be dealt with. The soldiers in Sormyr still waited, ready to attack Garenoch on his order. She wondered just where Keiren had gone. Though the sorceress had been a thorn in her side at times, she had come to depend on her for insight. Now Keiren’s own father was wasting away in the estate, and she was nowhere to be seen. Did she know that he was dying? Did she care that the mages needed her?

  Unlikely on both counts. Whatever Keiren was doing, she was acting on her own interests, just as she always had.

  Keiren

  “Can’t you move any faster!” Keiren growled, stumbling over loose rocks on her way up the steep mountainside. The clouds shrouding the moon made it difficult to navigate every step.

  “I’m twice your age, woman!” Óengus growled back. “And carrying all our supplies besides!”

  “You’re not twice my age,” Keiren muttered, though she knew what he meant. Though she’d been alive longer than him, physically Óengus was older. He would have been a total burden if he hadn’t regained his abilities when the barrier fell . . . and if he hadn’t been so easy to persuade on the matter of carrying their supplies.

  “Do you see anything?” she asked, wanting to change the subject before he made her carry one of the heavy satchels slung across his chest on either side.

  “Not a glimmer,” he panted. “I don’t think we’ll find them up here.”

  She trudged onward, her eyes on the distant crest. She’d spotted smoke plumes before the sun had set that day. There was someone up there.

  She scanned the cliffside above, pondering the puzzle it presented. “There is no magic to be felt in this area,” she muttered. “Not a drop. No faie, no mages, nothing.”

  “So?”

  She rolled her eyes, though Óengus could not see. She turned toward him. “So? Does it not seem a trick of the Travelers? To remain undetected by gods, dragons—by you and I?” She hated to admit that Óengus probably saw more than her. It was a gift of those with a measure of Traveler blood in their veins, those who originally hailed from Clan Liath.

  Óengus stared at her, his silver beard bristling in irritation. “You believe they hide their magic in plain sight?”

  “Yes,” she said, then turned and kept climbing. Almost immediately her boot slipped on a rock and she nearly fell. She cursed, then kept going. This area—this strange, magic-less area—neutralized her magic too. She was utterly defenseless, as clumsy as any mortal climbing up the steep mountainside. It was a risk coming here, but she was out of options. She’d searched for the Travelers high and low, and had even convinced Óengus to aid her—not that he’d been doing anything better, besides drowning his sorrows in whiskey in Ousepid—but Niklas had eluded her.

  She knew if there was anyone who could outwit the gods, who could outwit the fates themselves and restore her father’s magic, it would be Niklas. He’d managed to play puppet-master with her, with the Snow Queen, and who else was anybody’s guess. She had no doubt he was still playing that role now, in some way.

  She had to find him. If that meeting was to occur here, in a place without magic, she’d wring his skinny little neck with her bare hands until he told her everything she needed to know.

  Her father’s life depended on it. He would be too proud to ask for her help. He probably assumed she didn’t even know what had happened to him. But she knew, and she would not stand idly by while old age took him.

  She’d been unable to bring back her mother. She’d squandered Bedelia’s love. She would not lose him too.

  Finn

  The gentle light of sunrise tugged Finn into consciousness. She lifted a hand and rubbed her brow, slowly remembering where she was. Her bedroll was tugged up to her chin, hard ground beneath her, horses snuffling nearby.

  Her spine shot straight as realization dawned on her, eliciting a jolt of pain in her skull. She hunched forward and lowered her chin until the throbbing in her head subsided, then, eyes squinted, looked around. She startled, finding Iseult seated to her right, then relaxed.

  He watched her carefully with his calm, gray-green eyes. His black clothing wouldn’t show bloodstains from the battle, so she wasn’t sure if he’d changed or not. “What happened?” he asked.

  She rolled her tongue around in her mouth, but it remained bone-dry.

  Iseult handed her the water skin laid on the ground beside him.

  She took a swill, nearly choking on it. What was wrong with her? She shouldn’t have felt this bad from a short trip to the other realm. “You tell me first. Is everyone well?”

  He nodded. “Naoki remained with us until the Dearg Due departed, though I believe they had no inten
tion of attacking after—” he cut himself off, and for that she was grateful. In the crisp light of morning, she found herself unwilling to face what she had done. “As soon as we returned to camp, she disappeared,” he continued, “then eventually returned with you. And that is all I know.”

  At the mention of camp, reality finally clicked firmly into place. They were still in the woods, possibly in danger. She glanced around across other bedrolls, the smoldering embers of the fire, and a few female Aos Sí off in the distance, standing guard. She looked in the other direction, near the horses, and found Naoki curled up like a cat in a space between the trees barely large enough to contain her.

  She stretched her neck to either side, doing little to lessen its stiffness, then turned back to Iseult, deciding there was nothing left but to tell the truth, despite the worry it was sure to cause. “Belenus and Oighear were both there. Oighear still believes she can rule the faie, and Belenus has agreed to give them to her. If I continue on this path, she will once more become my enemy.”

  “She always was. Her alliance only lived as long as it suited her.”

  She lifted both brows. “But you trusted her to help us.”

  “When it was in her best interest. You trust too easily.”

  She hung her head. He was right. Even after all the betrayals she’d suffered, she wanted to believe people could change. She’d seen so many people change, but perhaps ancient faie queens were not quite people to begin with.

  “What else did Belenus say?” Iseult pressed.

  She told him, wanting to get it all out quickly. Once finished, she let out a trembling sigh. “It changes nothing, except that we must move faster. As I am, I am not sure I could face Oighear and defeat her, especially not with Belenus aiding her—”

  Iseult looked up toward the sky at a distant thrumming, and her jaw snapped shut, before opening again to ask, “What is—”

  He held up a hand as a shadow moved across the sun, blocking the early morning light. She looked for the source, then her stomach dropped. A massive dragon circled overhead. While she could not judge its color from such a distance, the sick feeling in her gut told her which dragon it was.