Tree of Ages 2

by Sara C. Roethle

  Iseult looked a question at him.

  Maarav’s eyes were wide. “It felt for the life of me like I’d been hit by lightning,” he said, astonished. He looked down at his hand, flexing his fingers as if afraid they no longer worked.

  Iseult let out an irritated breath and chased after the girl, figuring she’d used whatever gifts had caused her to flee her village. They needed to leave. They should have never even stopped in the ruined city. Now it might be too late.

  He sped down the stairs, skipping several with his long legs until he reached the landing. The sound of steel on steel accosted him as he rushed outside, confusing his senses. Yet more jarring still, were the various eruptions and waves of magic holding the greater numbers of An Fiach back near the gates. In some areas, fire scalded the men, in others it was as if great torrents of wind manifested out of nowhere to knock them off their feet.

  From the looks of things, the men of An Fiach had not expected resistance of any nature, let alone destructive magic. Yet the settlers attacked them ferociously, leaving the soldiers with time only to defend, not to attack. Many of the soldiers charged onward, dispersing amongst the settlers to make themselves less easy targets. The fighting spread out toward the tower, and into other areas of the city.

  Amidst the chaos, Iseult spotted Àed, fending off attackers with little bursts of magic, while obviously just trying to escape. Legend had it, and yes, Àed the Mountebank was a legend in his own right, that the aged conjurer had stood up against his daughter and lost, becoming magically crippled in the process. That weakness showed now, as the old man barely made it past his attackers and toward Iseult.

  Once they were together, the two retreated from the main area of the fighting, and back toward the tower.

  “That Conall has amassed every conjurer and sorceress in the land!” Àed screeched as they ran for cover.

  Iseult didn’t respond, though he’d been thinking the same. Perhaps Conall was not as foolish as Iseult had originally thought. Magic users were easy targets for An Fiach when only one or two might dwell in a single village, but gathered together, they were a force to be reckoned with.

  The tide of battle seemed to be turning in favor of the settlers as many continued to use their magic. Iseult and Àed retreated further, not wanting to get caught up in any stray bursts.

  “Let’s find yer brother and the girl,” Àed grumbled, eyeing the now distant fighting with distaste. “Perhaps we can use this opportunity to make our retreat.”

  It went against Iseult’s very being to retreat from battle, but he followed the old man as he began to search for Maarav and Ealasaid, not voicing that leaving would likely be more difficult than Àed hoped. Even if the settlers pushed back the first wave, they were just that, the first wave. The remaining troops of An Fiach would gather not far off to wait for reinforcements. Any who tried to flee the ruined city would be cut down. Yes, Iseult was no stranger to the ways of war. A group fleeing the city with hopes of boarding a ship stood little chance.

  Àed stomped down a nearby alleyway, never calling out, but seeming to know just where he was going. They’d left the fighting completely, though small groups of both settlers and soldiers either fled, or chased others down the crisscrossing city streets. Àed made his way deftly through the maze of streets, easily avoiding any soldiers, while never pausing to consider where he was going. Perhaps he could sense others just as he sensed Finn.

  Iseult followed silently, keeping to the shadows while wracking his brain for some way to leave the city. Àed was right, they needed to reach Maarav’s ship as soon as possible. If Kai fulfilled his promise and brought Finn to the Archtree, only to have no one there to meet her . . . Iseult shook his head. He shouldn’t waste time thinking about the possibilities. They had to find a way out.

  Maarav had rushed down the stairs of the tower behind Iseult. He had no intention of fighting amongst the ill-equipped settlers, rather, he hoped to quickly gather the girl and the old man so they might be on their way.

  He groaned as he reached the bottom of the stairs and stepped out into the sunlight, realizing that it was too late to slip out quietly. The first wave of An Fiach had arrived, and the settlers had rushed out in an attempt to bar the gates against them.

  Maarav shook his head, eyeing the scene dispassionately. Iseult had almost instantly disappeared in the chaos, but Maarav was not worried about him. If his brother knew anything, it was how to stay alive.

  Maarav watched as the men of An Fiach descended upon the city quickly, not put off by the hastily assembled gates, though it was obvious that the men of the Hunt were unorganized. After their initial siege, they dispersed to fight in clusters within the city, weakening the efficacy of their initial attack. If they’d had a proper general, they would have taken the gates down at once, marching into the city in full force. The sight alone would have likely caused the settlers to throw down their weapons in fear. Instead, the disorganized soldiers were scampering about as waves of magic threatened to overcome them. Maarav wasn’t suprised to see the magic being used, he was no stranger to the unusual, but he was surprised by the utter destruction of the scene. Nearly half of the settlers seemed to possess magic in one form or another.

  He shook his head as the fighting neared the tower. If only the townsfolk would have peacefully submitted to questioning, he and the others might have been able to slip away. As it was, the immediate attack of the settlers had spurred An Fiach into action, cutting down any who opposed them just as they were cut down themselves.

  Maarav’s ship was moored not far off with people he trusted, unrelated to the settlers, but reaching it would be a gamble. He did not want to risk leading An Fiach to the ship, or those who protected it.

  He caught sight of Ealasaid darting around swinging blades, a look of determined fury marring her normally soft features. With a grunt of annoyance, he raced forward. If this foolish girl got him killed now, he would haunt her in the afterlife.

  He kept his eyes open for Iseult and Àed as he ran, but both were nowhere to be seen. He would need them with him to find Finn, else she would never trust him, but he would have to find them later. First, he needed to stop the girl from getting herself killed as a direct result of what he’d said to her. He’d only meant to stop her from crying, not throw her into a blood-thirsty battle frenzy.

  He reached her side just as she neared the more organized bodies of An Fiach, marching through the downed gates. He was about to pull her aside and down an alleyway to hide, when she thrust an arm skyward.

  Brilliant lightning bolts rained down from where her fingers pointed, erupting in the middle of the troops, casting the men aside like they weighed nothing. There were shouts of confusion until some of the men left standing caught sight of the young, blonde girl in a highly visible blue dress, her fingers still stretched skyward.

  “A Faie witch!” one shouted. “Kill her!”

  “Well, I was not expecting that,” Maarav mumbled to himself before taking hold of Ealasaid and pulling her away from the oncoming men.

  At first she struggled until Maarav chided, “Do you really think you can hold them all off at once?”

  Seeming to realize how stupid she was being, Ealasaid went momentarily limp, then allowed Maarav to guide her away. They ran together through alleyways and corridors created by the new, roughly assembled buildings, not taking the time to look back over their shoulders.

  “We must fight them,” Ealasaid panted as she jogged beside Maarav, having to hold her skirts up above her knees lest she trip. “They deserve to die like my family.” The last came out more like a sob as tears began to stream down her face.

  Maarav had a feeling she would not keep up with his pace for long. Really, he should have just left her to ensure his own survival, but given her newly revealed powers, she might prove quite useful. Plus, he might have felt a bit guilty if she died.

  He stopped and pulled her into an alcove, where hopefully they would not be spotted.

&nb
sp; She looked up at him, suddenly frightened as if he were the one who meant her harm.

  Maarav rolled his eyes. Their position in the corridor was awkward, as Ealasaid was much shorter than him. He pressed his back against the wall to look down at her. “You may kill a few, but their arrows will cut you down quickly. Better to stay alive now, and enact vengeance when you stand a better chance of success.”

  She continued to cry. “I have nothing to live for,” she whispered.

  Maarav smirked, not because her words were humorous, but because many years ago, he had said the same thing.

  “You will find purpose in time, but you must give yourself that time to find it,” he explained.

  She nodded, then turned suddenly as several men ran down the street adjacent to their alcove. They were An Fiach, evident by their dark brown uniforms, but did not notice Maarav and Ealasaid as they remained in the shadows.

  A few painful heartbeats later, the men passed. Maarav began to urge Ealasaid out into the alley so they might retreat behind the men’s turned backs, when a final man came running, trying to catch up with the others.

  Ealasaid had stepped out a moment too soon, and the man came to a skidding halt. With a heavy sigh, Maarav stepped out behind her, ready to draw his sword.

  The soldier swiped his sweaty red hair away from his face as he peered at Ealasaid and Maarav in disbelief. It was the man they’d met in the forest, who’d introduced himself as Anders.

  “My lady,” Anders breathed, focusing on Ealasaid as his chest rose and fell with exertion, highlighting the red insignia of the wolf.

  “Murderer!” Ealasaid shouted, launching herself at him before Maarav could stop her.

  They went tumbling to the ground. Coming out on top and straddling the poor man, Ealasaid lifted her arms skyward.

  “I’ve never killed anything!” Anders shouted, cringing away from Ealasaid’s fury.

  She hesitated, then looked down at him, her arms going slightly slack. “Your men murdered my family, my entire village.”

  Anders shook his head. “I’ve only travelled with a small contingent. We haven’t killed anything but rabbits since our journey began!”

  Maarav shook his head. What a miserable little whelp, this Anders. Now that Ealasaid wasn’t going to kill him, Maarav helped her to her feet, pulling her away from him. More members of An Fiach appeared further down the street, spotting them.

  Ealasaid looked between Maarav, Anders, and the oncoming men, as if deciding what to do.

  Sensing that she was about to pull away from him, Maarav glared down at her. “You cannot find your vengeance if you’re dead,” he hissed.

  Nodding to herself, Ealasaid allowed Maarav to move her further down the street. She glance over her shoulder at Anders as he called out to them to wait, but Maarav continued their forward motion.

  The girl would probably prove more trouble than she was worth, but Maarav had never been one to leave behind a promising opportunity.

  They continued running deeper into the city to find it had not all been repaired. Many of the buildings were no more than rubble, offering few places to hide.

  While Maarav scanned the buildings, Ealasaid looked behind them. “I don’t think they’re coming,” she commented.

  Maarav paused to listen. The now distant rumble of battle seemed to be dying down, and he heard no signs of immediate pursuit. Good. Now to find the others, and a way out of the city. He and Ealasaid had left their horses stabled outside the tower before venturing up to meet Iseult. They would have to act quickly if they wanted to retrieve them before An Fiach gained control of the ruined city. It would be risky going back for them, but the journey to his ship would be a long one on foot.

  “Over here,” said a familiar voice from somewhere behind one of the nearby buildings.

  Maarav smiled as first Àed, then Iseult came into view. “The battle is all but over,” Àed announced as they approached, “though I’ve a mind to be on our way. I dinnae think An Fiach will be held back for long.”

  Maarav frowned. There was no way the ill-equipped settlers could have held back such an onslaught.

  Had the magic users been enough to hold off An Fiach? He thought back to Ealasaid’s lightning bolts. She was capable of holding a small contingent off all on her own.

  The gears in Maarav’s head began to turn. With more folk like Ealasaid, they could not only protect their own city, they could lay siege to others. Perhaps Conall was not as foolish as he seemed.

  Iseult gave a subtle nod as his eyes met Maarav’s. Conall had not only taken in the destitute. He’d formed an unnatural army.

  “We’ll fetch our horses, then we’ll depart,” Iseult ordered.

  Maarav and Àed both nodded, while Ealasaid seemed conflicted. Perhaps she’d like to remain among others of her kind. Maarav hoped not. It was better to live a life of solitude, than as someone’s pawn.

  The bugling of horns as they walked back toward the tower signaled the early retreat of An Fiach, followed by the cheers of the settlers. They’d turned the soldiers back before a true battle could take place, but many lives had been lost in the process. Iseult shook his head at the cheers as the settlers came into view, knowing An Fiach would simply return with greater forces. Men like that, blinded by the idea that they were doing good, would not give up so easily.

  Maarav jogged ahead to retrieve their horses, as Iseult paused to watch the spectacle before him. Conall’s people continued to cheer, taking final stabs or casting final bursts of magic at the last few stragglers to make their retreat. It would have been an amusing spectacle if it weren’t for the dead lying at everyone’s feet. By the looks of it, both sides had suffered heavy losses in the short span of time.

  Now that the enemy had retreated, those left alive didn’t seem to know what to do with themselves. Many stared blankly in shock, while others ran to fallen comrades, searching for signs of life.

  Àed spat on the ground near Iseult’s feet, then muttered, “Fools.”

  Iseult smirked bitterly. He was not naive to the ways of war, and saw the first assault for the disaster that it was. “Which ones?” he asked, honestly wondering if the old man was referring to An Fiach, or those who followed Conall.

  “All of them,” Àed growled. “Including us. We should have never stopped to warn them.”

  Iseult nodded his agreement, though they’d no way to know what type of situation they were walking into. Still, if they would have continued on their way, they likely would have reached Maarav’s ship already. By Iseult’s estimates, Finn and her captors would only be a day or two away from the Archtree by now, if Kai managed to navigate the course correctly. If Maarav’s ship was far enough north, it would mean a more direct route to the island, but they would still likely arrive after the others, unless the elements interfered.

  Maarav returned with three horses and a mule in hand. “Not that our mounts will do us much good with no way out of the city,” he commented, handing Iseult his reins.

  Iseult nodded, taking the reins. Leaving through the gates was no longer an option, but there may well be other ways out of the city. The perimeter created by the city wall was only a blurry memory to him, but it would be easy enough to check for a breach on his own. The settlers were all consumed with tending to the injured and dead, and Conall seemed to have locked himself inside his tower.

  “Wait here,” Iseult instructed his group.

  Àed nodded to Iseult, then turned to Ealasaid. “Come lass, we’ll tend the wounded.” He turned a glare up to Maarav. “Ye too.”

  Maarav gave Àed a sarcastic bow, then followed the old man as he led Ealasaid toward the impromptu battlefield.

  As Iseult retreated from the crowd, darkness slowly descended. They’d lost an entire day in the city. An entire day in which they should have been making steady progress toward a ship.

  Once away from any onlookers, he lifted himself onto his horse and galloped toward the western edge of the city. If he could find a br
each in the wall somewhere along the coast, they might be able to slip out, unnoticed by An Fiach. They’d quite possibly be leaving the settlers to an ill fate, but the fools had gotten themselves into their mess to begin with. It wasn’t his job to save them. Or so he kept telling himself.

  By the time he’d reached the edge of the ruined city, darkness had fully engulfed the sky. He dismounted and looked up at the city wall, illuminated only by a sliver of moonlight. He began to pace the length of the wall, feeling at home in the shadows, glad he’d left the others behind. He thrived on solitude. So many weeks spent traveling with a party had left him feeling uneasy. He needed both Àed and Maarav if he was to find Finn, but in another reality he would have by far preferred to find her himself. She trusted him, and was waiting for him to save her. He would not let her down.

  Iseult paused to look back up at the wall with a sigh. The city of his early childhood had become surprisingly fortified. Not that it hadn’t been when he was a child, but the stone walls had been long since ruined. Conall’s people had patched them with wood, which wouldn’t be terribly effective at keeping people out, should their enemies come bearing torches, but it was effective at keeping people in. Especially people who would need their horses to reach their destination in a timely manner. He continued walking for some time.

  Nearly an hour later, he paced along the final stretch of wall, finding no breaches wide enough to fit a horse. In fact, he found no breaches at all. It was quite a nice wall.

  He debated going back to the tower right away to meet up with the others. He would have preferred some more time alone, but time was of the essence. He would not waste a minute of it on his own well-being.

  His mind made up, he remounted and wove his way through the various, vacant alleyways and back toward the tower. The remaining settlers were all gathered there, torches illuminating their nervous faces as they waited for Conall to emerge and address them. Iseult had no desire to hear whatever blustery speech Conall had prepared, but he needed to know the man’s plans before he could make his own.