Sativola began to rush forward with a shout, but was too late as the shape collided with Finn, knocking her from a sitting position onto her back.
Her hands reflexively gripped the creature. Her fingers touched upon damp feathers, and skin that felt malleable and loose, but rough and thick at the same time. The creature on top of her let out a small squeal, then buried its head next to her neck, caressing her skin with what felt like a large, sharp beak.
Finn opened her eyes slowly to see Sativola standing over her. He had his hands up in a cautioning gesture. “Don't move, lass,” he said softly.
Finn's pulse sped. The other crew members had gathered around. “Kill the thing!” the scrawny man shouted.
The creature tensed, wrapping its wings around Finn's midsection as much as it could with her lying on her back.
“It's got its claws near her throat,” Sativola snapped. “Nobody move.”
The creature began making mewling noises near Finn's ear. It didn't seem like it was threatening her, more like it was terrified. Some instinct deep inside her prompted her hands to begin gently stroking the creature's back. The creature wasn't large, perhaps just the size of Finn's torso, and probably only half her weight.
At her touch, the creature snuggled closer. “I don't think it means to hurt me,” she said softly.
She tried to sit up, but the creature starting emitting short, panicked chirps.
“There, there,” she soothed, as she moved one of her hands to stroke its bony head. She still couldn't see much of the creature with it nestled so close to her throat, but she could tell that its head rested on a long, thin neck, and its beak was mostly covered in the rough, thick skin, except for the very tip.
The creature made a sound like purring, and Finn slowly tried to sit up again. Sativola and the other men watched in silence. The creature let her move enough to sit, then released her torso to huddle in her lap. With its body facing Finn's belly, the creature folded its wings around its back, then turned its long neck to watch the gathered men with one of its eyes. The other eye, turned toward Finn, held a look of terror in its large, sea green depths.
“It's just a baby,” Finn commented.
“A baby Faie creature!” the scrawny man whispered harshly. “Throw the thing overboard and be done with it.”
Finn wrapped her arms around the creature and stared the man down. The creature's white feathers were soft against Finn's hands, in sharp contrast to its skin.
“Back to work,” Sativola demanded.
The scrawny man opened his mouth to argue, but Sativola cast an impatient glare at him and he did as he was told. The brute, who'd watched the scene silently, walked back to his post without a word.
Sativola crouched in front of Finn. “It's probably not wise to keep that creature in your lap, lass,” he whispered. “The Faie have never done us any favors.”
Finn prickled at that. She might not really be Faie, but she was close enough. “Help me stand,” she instructed, “we'll take the creature to my room where the other men can't hurt it.”
He raised his eyebrows so high that they met his hairline.
“Please,” Finn pressed, unable to bear the thought of the scrawny man tossing her new friend into the ocean.
Sativola let out a long sigh, then nodded. He went to crouch behind Finn, then gently grabbed the back of both of her arms and lifted while Finn gripped the creature against her. As they moved, the creature wriggled free from her grasp, but only to climb further up her chest, wrapping its dainty, taloned hands around her neck and its wings and lower feet around her chest.
“Quickly now, lass,” Sativola instructed.
Finn looked in the direction of Sativola's gaze to find the scrawny man glaring at her. She nodded to herself, then hurried back to the trap door that led below deck, feeling much more steady on her feet with adrenaline spurring her on.
Within a few moments, Sativola, Finn, and the creature were all in Finn's room with the door shut behind them. With Sativola's help, Finn slowly lowered herself onto her straw mat. The creature instantly relaxed, seeming more comfortable in the closed space. With a curious coo, it finally detached itself from Finn to explore her bed.
Now that she could see it clearly, she stared in awe. The creature's body shape seemed almost cat-like, agile and fast, but its skin was more reptilian. Its glossy white feathers congregated mostly on its wings, and were sparse on its body, almost like a baby bird that was yet to fully fill out its plumage. The creature made a playful chittering sound with its beak as it buried its face in Finn's pillow.
Sativola stood on the other side of the room, as far away from the creature as possible. “Is that . . . ” he trailed off, as if unsure what to say.
Finn turned questioning eyes to him as the creature returned to her lap, curling itself up contentedly, even though it was a little too large to rest there comfortably. “Is it what?”
Sativola shook his head at the sight of the creature, who was now making soft snoring sounds in Finn's lap. “Well lass,” he began again, “that thing looks a bit like a dragon.”
Finn's eyes widened as she lowered her gaze to the creature. She knew about dragons, though she wasn't sure how. Yet, she was quite sure she'd never seen one before. As far as she knew, no one living had, though, given she’d been a tree for one hundred years, she was older than most of those who currently lived.
“I'm not sure what it is,” she commented softly as she began stroking the maybe-dragon's little head, “but it seems friendly enough. It also seems too young to be away from its mother. I wonder what it was doing out in the middle of the ocean.”
Sativola shrugged. “Perhaps it escaped from another ship, or perhaps it flew all the way from shore. Either way, ye probably shouldn't keep it.”
Finn gasped and the little dragon tensed, sensing her sudden emotions. She felt an overwhelming need to protect the young life curled up in her lap, and not Sativola, nor anyone else would stop her.
Reading her expression, Sativola raised his hands in surrender. “I had to try. I suppose I'll have to go rummage up some food for the little scamp.”
Finn smiled broadly. Perhaps she'd recruited a friend to her side after all.
Bedelia rushed into her room, frantic to find Finn as the first light of morning peeked through the small window. She hadn't meant to be gone so long, but acquiring a ship had been more difficult than she'd guessed. While her connection to the Lady of Migris had held some sway with the guards at the gate, the docks were under different rule. The only thing that held sway there was coin, and apparently Bedelia did not have enough of it. Desperate, she’d searched through the day and night, unwilling to return to the inn empty handed.
Her heart jumped into her throat when she saw that the room was empty. Her already queasy stomach felt like it was doing handstands inside of her. Her supplies seemed to all be there beside her bed, neatly packed into her saddlebags. She took a step closer to the bed. Something small rested there. A glass phial. She reached out a hand toward it, then froze at the sound of footsteps behind her.
“That was here when I arrived,” a voice said. “The innkeep must have left it.”
Bedelia swayed on her feet at the sound of the voice, then turned slowly, not really wanting to look.
Óengus, a bitter smile on his lightly lined face, stood a few steps away. “You lost the girl,” he accused.
Bedelia gasped. “No! She must just be down in the inn. Maarav would not have let her run off.”
“The innkeep?” Óengus questioned. “He is missing too. Perhaps they have run off together.”
“They wouldn’t,” Bedelia replied, hating the quaver in her voice.
Óengus snorted, then tossed his gray cloak back over his shoulder as he moved to look out the room’s small window. With his back turned, he said, “Gather your things. I've a good idea where the girl is heading. We’ll simply have to pick her up again before your fiery-haired lady finds out.”
“K
eiren sees all,” Bedelia argued, knowing it wasn’t entirely true, but wanting something to prove Óengus even the slightest bit wrong.
Still gazing out the window, he replied, “Not the girl, apparently, else she wouldn’t need us.”
Bedelia glared at his back, and seriously considered sticking a blade in it, but in the end, she would do as her lady wished. She had no choice but to work with the cruel excuse for a man standing before her. She began gathering her things mechanically. Finn had packed them well, so it only took a moment.
When Óengus finally turned around, he glanced down at the bed, and the glass phial that still rested there. “You might want to take that,” he advised.
Bedelia glanced at the container, then back to Óengus. “What is it?”
He shrugged. “I've no idea, but if someone thought to leave it for you, it's probably important.”
With a nod, Bedelia scooped up the phial of liquid and placed it in the pouch at her belt. “Where are we going?” she dared to ask.
Óengus breezed past her to open the door. Without turning around, he answered, “To my ship,” then walked out into the hall.
Bedelia strongly considered her dagger again. His ship. She'd spent all day and night trying to acquire a ship, and Óengus made it sound like the most simple matter in the world. Muttering to herself, she followed him out, stepping lightly on her injured leg. It seemed to be getting worse, but there was nothing she could do about that now.
Chapter Seven
Ealasaid had never heard a person curse so much in such a short span of time. Iseult had left them while the sun was still high over their heads the previous day, and now it was nearly dark for the second time around. Sensing that they would remain at their camp for another evening, she’d built a small fire for warmth while Àed alternated between pouting about being left behind, and glaring at the tall city walls.
She really didn't understand all the fuss about one single girl. She thought it would probably be quite embarrassing to have three men obsessing over you, though it might also be kind of fun. Still, she kept her thoughts to herself. Àed had not given her much information to go on, and for all she knew, this Finn person might be in grave danger. She would feel quite the fool if she spoke up, only to find that the men’s urgency sprang from the threat of mortal peril.
So, she kept her mouth shut and tended the fire, while her elderly companion grumbled to himself.
As full darkness descended, the refugees began to mill about, looking to share a warm fire, or more importantly, a meal. She and Àed had little in the way of food, but she didn’t doubt that they were far better off than most who camped around the city. She wondered how many had left their homes for similar reasons to hers, then shook her head. Very few, if any. Her gifts were unnatural, and were considered as such because few possessed them. She turned her attention back to Àed. He might have been a grumpy old man, but he was special, just like her. It made her feel a little less alone.
The sound of nearby footsteps drew Ealasaid’s attention as a small, hunched form came into view, likely longing to share some warmth. Àed showed no signs of sensing the new presence, so she was startled when he announced, “We've no food to share, so ye best be on yer way.”
The dark form halted, then a throat cleared. “I'm only lookin for a bit of warmth,” a gravelly, female voice called back.
Àed didn't reply. Ealasaid, unused to the unwelcoming attitude of those who lived on the road, stood and gestured for the old woman to approach.
She hurried forward and plopped herself down near the fire, lifting her small, wrinkled hands toward the flames. The old woman’s frizzy, silver hair glinted in the firelight, hidden partially by the hood of her cloak. Her eyes lifted to Ealasaid, revealing that one was clouded over, and didn't seem to move with the other one.
“Are you waiting to enter the city as well?” Ealasaid asked innocently, glad to have some hopefully less cranky company.
The old woman snorted and turned her good eye back to the fire. “I just left, actually, seeing as someone burned my home to the ground with me locked inside. It’s lucky I’m small of build, else I’d never have escaped through the window.”
Ealasaid gasped. “Why would someone do such a thing!”
The old woman laughed bitterly. “That's what happens when you're tricked into helping one of the Faie. The girl seemed so harmless, so I invited her right into my home.” She shook her head. “Foolish of me, I know, but she seemed so innocent.”
Àed perked up suddenly as the old woman spoke. “A Faie girl?” he questioned. “How could you tell that she was one of the Tuatha?”
The old woman shrugged. “I couldn't. A female guard enlightened me, and offered to take her away quietly. I thought that would be the end of it, but someone must have seen. I wouldn't have been the first to lose my life for interacting with one of the Tuatha Dé Danann.”
Ealasaid could tell that the wheels in Àed's mind were spinning, but she wasn't sure why. She decided to wait and listen in hopes that the two elderly folk would give away more information.
“This Faie girl,” Àed began slowly, “what did she look like?”
The old woman's expression turned suspicious as she gave Àed her full attention. “Why are you so interested in one of the Faie?”
Àed frowned and leaned back on his arms casually, though Ealasaid could still detect a measure of tension hidden just below the surface. “This isn't the first tale I've heard about a Faie girl summoning a storm into peoples' lives,” he explained, “though I'm not sure if she's of the Tuatha, or something else entirely.”
The old woman settled back on her haunches, seemingly satisfied. “This girl had long hair down to her waist, pale brown or dark blonde, depending on what you'd want to call it. Small of stature, with large brown eyes, and a very gentle way about her.”
“The lass sounds harmless,” Àed commented. “How'd the guard ye mentioned know she wasn't human?”
The old woman shrugged. “I didn't ask questions. I just wanted the Faie girl out of my house as quickly as possible. I've had enough trouble as it is simply peddling herbs to the city folk.”
The old woman glanced in the direction of some ruckus coming from one of the other camps. It was only for a moment, but Ealasaid noticed the angry scowl that crossed Àed's face while the old woman's back was turned. Ealasaid sensed there was something to this whole situation that she was missing, and she would have given a lot to know what that thing was.
The old woman turned back to the fire, and Àed resumed his pleasant expression. “What about the guard?” he asked.
The woman started, then looked at Àed in surprise. “What about her? Why are you asking so many questions? I simply wanted to warm myself by the fire.”
“What did she look like?” Àed growled, finally losing patience.
The old woman stood abruptly, and glared down at Àed. “I don't know what you're playing at, but I've already had one attempt on my life, I'd like to avoid another.” With that, she stormed off into the darkness.
Ealasaid turned wide eyes to Àed. “So is the woman you're looking for the guard she spoke of, or the Faie girl?”
Àed glared in the direction the old woman had gone. “The girl, though she's not of the Tuatha. Not really.”
Ealasaid felt terrible. The girl they searched for was in mortal peril after all. She dreaded the words she had to say next. “If the city guard is anything like An Fiach, time might be growing short for your friend.”
Àed turned his gaze toward the fire. “There's little chance that the woman who took her was a member of the guard. I only hope that our previous companion won't go back to his old ways when presented with both women at once.”
Ealasaid wasn't sure if Àed meant Iseult or Kai, and she wasn't sure what he meant about old ways. She wasn't sure about a lot of things. The only thing she knew for certain, was that life was far more complicated out in the open world than she ever would have imagined from her safe
, small bedroom, in her tiny little burgh, where she lived what seemed like several lifetimes ago.
She and Àed settled in for the night. Eventually they fell asleep after a long while spent gazing into the fire, sharing companionable silence, just like the night before.
The next morning, as Ealasaid boiled water over the fire for tea, she saw a wonderful sight approaching in the distance. She didn’t particularly appreciate Iseult’s silent, and oft times rude demeanor, but she’d take any excuse for a reprieve from Àed’s cranky morning mutterings.
She noticed another tall man following behind Iseult as he approached, trailing a fully saddled, black and white dappled horse behind him. Àed was yet to notice their company, so deep was he in his dejected torpor. The second man looked eerily similar to Iseult, only he was dressed in a simple black tunic and breeches, not the more streamlined clothing of the warrior class worn by Iseult.
Iseult reached them first, not glancing back as the other man followed him. Ealasaid pushed a ringlet of hair behind her ear and stood to meet his gaze, waiting for an explanation. She felt somewhat deflated as he moved his eyes from her to Àed.
Àed didn’t look up, and instead continued to poke at their fire. They’d kept it burning all night and into the morning, trying to keep away the cold. Ealasaid wasn’t sure where the wood for the fire had come from, since the area had been long since picked over by refugees, but Àed always seemed to have more.
“She’s gone,” Àed commented, still not looking up.
Instead of responding, Iseult moved close to the old man and crouched by his side. He handed him a rough piece of parchment. Àed took it in hand, unfolded it, and read it quickly. From the motion of his bright blue eyes, Ealasaid could tell he read it several times over before aiming a meaningful glance Iseult.
The unknown tall man stood back, casting his gaze over Ealasaid. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, feeling uncomfortable with the attention.
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