Even tired, she was still faster than she used to be. She reached the front door just behind Kai, and Iseult just behind her. Naoki veered off, curiously circling the house.
Kai threw the door open and stepped inside.
Hands trembling, Branwen followed. Warmth emanated from within. She wasn’t sure how she’d missed the hint of smoke from the chimney, and she could tell by Kai’s stunned expression that he had missed it too. Around a small table in the center of the home, sat a plump older woman and three young girls.
Kai fell to his knees with a soft thunk on the floorboards.
“Kai!” the youngest girl squealed as all three rushed toward him.
Branwen backed against the wall, suddenly uncomfortable being there. Tears streamed down Kai’s cheeks as his sisters hugged him. The plump woman—his mother she supposed—remained back at the table, smiling and swatting at the tears glistening in her lashes.
Iseult watched the scene for a moment, then stalked outside, likely more comfortable waiting with the dragon.
“We had to eat snow!” the youngest girl exclaimed. “And we ate all our sheep. We thought we’d be there forever! We lost your friend’s pretty white horse too. We didn’t mean to, she just trotted off one day.”
Kai clung to his smallest sister. Knowing just a bit of Kai’s history, Branwen guessed the child was but a babe when Kai left his family behind, but they seemed bonded none the less.
Feeling another welling of emotion in her blackened heart, she backed out of the door to wait with Iseult. Though once she saw him standing outside with the dragon, she decided to wait on her own.
She wondered how these latest turns of events would effect the land. Those who’d survived the snowy realms had been returned. Many dead in Sormyr. Armies of faie allied with the mages . . .
She shook her head, walking out into a field by herself. None of it had much to do with her. She would probably die now that Niklas was gone. She’d expected it all along. It had been his magic that animated her. The magic of the Travelers. Now—did she feel herself weakening already? She wasn’t sure, but it could only be a matter of time.
She wouldn’t tell Kai or Iseult. She could not stand to feel their lack of caring. No one had seemed to care when her brother perished. So she was quite sure none would care about her.
Finn
“You must teach your dragon to consume magic,” Ashclaw’s voice echoed in Finn’s mind.
She pressed herself against his scales, avoiding the whipping wind pushing hard against her.
“She doesn’t need it!” she called out, unsure if Ashclaw could hear her words as she heard his.
“She has sustained herself on your magic since she came to this realm. It is why your bond is so strong. But sustaining her weakens you. It weakens you both.”
“Why do you care?” she thought, and was shocked when he answered.
“You are the only other dragonkin I know capable of consuming gods. When this realm is dead, we will hunt together in other realms.”
“Dead?” she gasped, nearly losing her grip on his scales.
She wasn’t sure if he actually heard her over the wind, or if he’d read her thoughts again. “Realms attract dragons when they are ready to die. We are harbingers of the end.”
She silenced her thoughts, unsure of what he could pick up on.
“You will come to understand as your new magic leaves you. You will hunt for more, and you will understand.”
She remained silent, but could almost feel the air of contentment radiating from Ashclaw. He was serving his purpose here, and all was going according to plan. The gods would die, and this realm would die, but there would always be others.
Ealasaid
“This is absurd!” Lady Síoda wailed.
Ealasaid watched with crossed arms as Síoda and Gwrtheryn gathered their possessions. “Perhaps, but this is the way it is. If you will not share a building with reiver women and children, then you will have to share with mages.”
Lady Síoda dropped the silks she’d been pulling from a dresser drawer with a huff, then stormed to the other side of the room where her husband was fussing with a box of jewelry. She towered over the nervous, trembling man, whose movements only became more inept with her presence.
Síoda’s height and girth had once seemed imposing to Ealasaid too, but she was a frightened young mage no longer. She’d led An Solas to the estate, where they had turned into something else all-together. They had become a community, intent on protecting their walls and their brethren. It was more than Gwrtheryn had ever managed for the burgh of Garenoch.
Maarav and Eywen waited behind her like twin pillars. Maarav, because he feared Síoda might throw a vase at his wife’s head, and Eywen, because they’d all agreed the sight of an Aos Sí warrior would speed the would-be nobles along.
Maarav leaned down near her ear. “We should not keep the . . . ladies waiting. They may not be fighters, but they are still reivers. They could cause a ruckus.”
She sighed heavily. As promised, the reiver women and children had arrived early that morning, escorted only by Conall and one other male, both of whom had been left outside the gates.
She’d almost been as shocked to see Conall as she had the previous night, leaving himself vulnerable so close to the burgh and its mages. Perhaps she could trust him as an ally, as he seemed to trust her. He trusted her, at least, to not strike him down on sight.
“There,” Lady Síoda hissed, stuffing the last of her velvet dresses into a trunk. She locked the lid, then hoisted the heavy trunk by its handle with just one arm before approaching Ealasaid. She sneered down at her. “You’ll come to regret this, little mage.”
Maarav laughed. “Are you no longer thankful for being alive, then? Would you rather take your chances outside the walls with the faie?”
Síoda’s gaze darted up to him. “Are we truly better off here, waiting to be attacked by dragons and gods?” She looked to Ealasaid in time to catch her surprised expression, then smiled wickedly at the effect she’d had. “You believe just because we are trapped here, that we have no spies. I hadn’t thought you that dense.”
“What do you mean?” Maarav growled.
Síoda laughed, while her husband stared at his feet, as far from the altercation as physically possible. “I mean that you’re a fool if you believe all within this burgh are loyal. Many still shiver with disgust at your unnatural magics, and your alliance with the enemy,” she nodded toward Eywen. “Some day they will speak out, and you will not be able to strike them all down.”
Ealasaid’s face flushed. She’d heard no rumors of rebellion, Síoda must be lying . . . but she couldn’t immediately brush off the idea. She’d been busy with the mages and the faie, the non-magical humans of the burgh could have been plotting right beneath her nose. They could easily be lured in as spies for Belenus. They could even help him plan an attack—
Síoda’s smug look forced Ealasaid’s fear aside. That would be dealt with later. She straightened her spine, then looked Síoda square in the eye, though it was to Eywen she spoke, “Escort Lord Gwrtheryn and his wife to the holding cells. I want Slàine to interrogate them.”
Síoda’s face fell. “You cannot do that!” she gasped. “We own this estate. We own this entire burgh!”
Ealasaid stood her ground. “You own nothing, Síoda. And your spies will soon learn that I do not tolerate traitors. Slàine will extract their names from your venomous lips, and I will feed them to the dragon myself.”
Síoda’s face went snow-white. Behind her, Gwrtheryn looked like he might lose his morning meal. Ealasaid almost felt bad for the terrified man, but his wife could rot in a cell for all she cared.
“On second thought,” she lifted her hand before Eywen could advance, “lock them in separate quarters. I will speak with Gwrtheryn myself.”
Eywen and Maarav both moved past her to escort Síoda and Gwrtheryn away. There were more guards waiting just outside the door should either p
ut up a fight.
She watched on, hiding her discomfort as the pair were ushered out the door. Next, she’d see that the women and children were given rooms in the mostly-empty building, then she’d pay a visit to the one-time ruler of Garenoch.
She hated that she’d had to threaten him—he was selfish and sheltered, but not quite malicious enough to be fed to a dragon—but Síoda’s words had shaken her to her core. She’d witnessed firsthand what hatred toward mages could breed in even the smallest villages. What started out as flames of fear, could easily turn into a wildfire. No one knew what had become of An Fiach, but the roots of the organization could begin anew, right within the walls she’d built to keep them out.
Finn
The sunlight was fading by the time Finn and Ashclaw neared Garenoch. She’d instructed him to land far out of sight. It would leave her quite the walk back to the burgh, but Ealasaid might be expecting Ashclaw to attack soon, and she didn’t want to risk arrows being loosed her way.
Ashclaw touched down amidst a meadow speckled with ancient oaks. She recognized the meadow instantly, and felt sick as too many memories and worries collided all at once. Feeling cold and sore, she slid down from the dragon’s back.
She spun a slow circle, her eyes searching the dying light, and—
There. Right there. The spot she’d been rooted as a tree. She knew if she turned around, she’d see Àed’s small hovel not far off. Àed, who’d rescued her and accompanied her to Garenoch. Without him, she might have never found all the others she now considered family.
And she’d left him to die alone while she’d been too concerned with faie, dragons, and gods.
Not wanting to see the hovel, and too sad to keep her feet, she sat in the grass, entirely overcome.
“You have a long walk,” Ashclaw muttered in her mind. “You must begin plans to capture Belenus.”
“I know,” she sighed, still staring at the spot she’d once been rooted as a tree. Part of her longed for that solace, but she knew there was no going back. This life had shown her many horrors, but many wonders too. She’d found far too many things worth fighting for.
Ashclaw watched her for a moment, then snorted smoke. “Very well. When you are ready to act, return to this place, and I will find you.”
She didn’t speak as he prowled away through the trees, likely searching for a suitable spot to run forward and launch himself skyward once more.
His departure was a relief. She stroked her fingers through the cool yellow grass. She knew she needed to rise and make way toward Garenoch. They’d all be waiting for news, and it would be a long walk to reach them.
Yet, she could not make herself stand. In that moment, she felt the most peace she’d known as far back as she could remember. For once, she was alone, and though Belenus’ magic still swam through her, nothing called to her for destruction. There was no one here to elicit her hunger.
A flash of glittering white caught her attention, right past her original rooting place. She narrowed her eyes, not really fearful, but curious.
A white horse walked into view, its coat seeming to shine as dusk gave way to night. From its forehead jutted a gleaming white horn.
Loinnir had no need to hide her true form with no mortals near.
In a heartbeat Finn sprung to her feet, rushing toward the unicorn. She could hardly believe she was real. Loinnir ambled toward her, never one to rush. They met in the middle, near Finn’s rooting place.
Finn ran her hands up Loinnir’s smooth forehead, ruffling the silken mane around her horn. “I’ve really needed you here,” she murmured, only just realizing it in that moment.
Loinnir bumped Finn’s arm with her muzzle, as if to say, “I know, but only now could I reach you.”
Finn leaned her forehead just below Loinnir’s horn, her hands smoothing across the unicorn’s cheeks. She still felt so very tired. “I’m not sure I can continue on. The sacrifice is too great.” Her confession surprised her, buried deep inside until just then.
Loinnir went still for a moment, then let out a long huff of steaming breath. “You will not give up,” she seemed to say, “not this time.”
It was in those sensed words that Finn finally realized, this lifetime was not the first time she and Loinnir had met. She had seen her once long ago, when she was just a young girl, within the fortress of the Snow Queen.
That was a time when she would have done anything for her people, the Cavari, and beyond them, the Dair. She was born to be their queen, and with that came great responsibility and sacrifice. Her life was never to be her own.
No one had understood her pain, but that night at Oighear’s fortress, when she had first glimpsed Loinnir within a stall, their eyes had met. It was only for a moment, but Finn was sure the unicorn knew her struggle, and her desire to be free.
Yet, Finn had been defeated. She’d gone on to do her people’s bidding. When she did not follow their will, it had ended with the death of her daughter.
Loinnir nudged her, letting her know it was time to act.
“You’re right,” she breathed. “I must fight for the lives I’ve chosen to protect.”
Loinnir stomped her hooves, pulling back and eyeing Finn with one glittering eye. It was that same look the unicorn had given her from her stall, well over a century ago, as if saying, “You choose to sacrifice yourself so readily.”
Finn eyed her back, knowing just what the unicorn wanted her to say, but unable to agree. “My life is not worth the lives of so many others.”
Loinnir stomped her hooves again. “Perhaps not, but it is worth something. It is something worth fighting for.”
Finn took a steadying breath. Either she was going mad, or she could actually understand Loinnir’s thoughts.
She supposed it didn’t really matter, as they were the words she needed to hear. She approached the unicorn and scrambled atop her back. Loinnir was an ancient being, far more ancient than Finn. More than anyone else, she understood Finn’s dilemma.
She laced her fingers through Loinnir’s mane, then leaned forward near her neck. The unicorn took off like an arrow, just a streak of glimmering white in the night.
As cold wind buffeted her face, Finn’s mouth set into a grim line of determination. She’d always been willing to sacrifice for others, but perhaps the time for sacrifice was over.
Now—now was the time to fight.
Ealasaid
Gwrtheryn had aged so dramatically since their first meeting, Ealasaid almost felt guilty. He was a man consumed with fear, and she had brought war to his burgh . . . what used to be his burgh. At the rate things were growing, they’d soon be a great city. Not as large as Sormyr, perhaps, but they could have easily competed with Migris, were the port city not in ruins.
Gwrtheryn clung to the bars of his cell, his lined face gleaming with sweat in the torchlight. It wasn’t hot in his cell, nor the narrow corridor in which Ealasaid stood—alone, for fear Gwrtheryn would not speak in front of other mages or assassins.
She lifted her nose, standing proudly. “Tell me everything you know, and you will be freed.”
Gwrtheryn glanced around warily. They were alone, but he had no way of seeing into the cells on either side of his. “But my wife—”
Ealasaid lifted her hand to cut him off. “Your wife is another matter. She is being questioned separately in another part of the estate.”
She noted the slight slump in his shoulders at her words. Did he fear his wife’s wrath should he speak against her?
He gripped the bars so tightly his knuckles turned white. “You’ll protect me from her?”
Her eyebrows lifted. Perhaps this went far deeper than she realized. “That all depends on what you tell me here and now.”
His eyes darted around again, then landed solidly on Ealasaid’s face. Well, solidly on her nose, he didn’t quite meet her eyes. “They’ve been planning it since the dragon attacks. Meetings in the dead of night, though I know not how he gets past the walls.”
“A tall man, shining white hair like the finest silk. Uncomfortably handsome. Síoda fawns over him.”
Her eyes widened. She wasn’t sure if it would be a help or a hindrance to tell him that his wife was fawning over a god, though it would easily explain how he’d gotten past the walls. “What are they planning?”
He licked his cracked, thin lips, glancing around again. “I do not know for sure. My wife thinks her meetings private. She doesn’t realize that I’ve followed her more than once when she creeps out of our chambers at night. All I can say is that they plan a fatal strike toward the mages.”
Her blood turned to ice. This was why Belenus had not attacked. He’d been plotting a way to wipe out the mages that wouldn’t risk droves of his soldiers.
She shook her head. She could not trust this one man’s words alone. “Why are you willing to tell me this? You hate the mages.”
A flicker of heat shone in his eyes, letting her know that he wasn’t entirely broken. “I hate my wife more.”
There was so much fire in his words, she couldn’t help but believe him. She withdrew a key from a pouch at her belt, then stepped forward to unlock his cell.
“You would free me with no guards present?”
She paused her movements long enough to look up at him with a smirk. “I could drop you before you could blink, old man. Remember that in these coming days.”
She finished unlocking the cell, then opened the barred-door.
He remained within, watching her warily. “What are you going to do with me?”
“You will be given a comfortable room, guarded at all times, and you will tell me absolutely everything you know. Even small things that may seem unimportant.”
Dawn of Magic: Sea of Flames Page 19