Tree of Ages 2

by Sara C. Roethle

  He dismounted and led his horse through the crowd, quickly picking out the shadowy forms of his companions, standing on their own. As his companions were yet to notice him, he waited a moment, observing them. Maarav stood whispering to Ealasaid. He’d watched over her during the battle, something Iseult found both surprising and confusing. He was usually an excellent judge of character, but his brother was difficult to read. He was a man of scheming and war, of that, Iseult was sure, but he could deduce little else.

  With a glance behind to make sure no one was watching him, he approached his party. They acknowledged him, but had no time to speak as Conall finally appeared from within the tower.

  “This should be entertaining,” Maarav muttered, barely loud enough for Iseult to hear.

  Conall, massive in girth, but less so in height, stepped onto a small, roughly assembled podium. His full beard reflected the firelight like it was made of flame, a fitting image in comparison to some of the magic that had been used in the battle. Scorch marks seared the earth, along with scores of badly burned bodies, now all neatly stacked together for a final burning. Iseult had seen some of the fire first hand, leaping from the arms of several wielders. It seemed magic users were not as rare as he’d been led to believe. It was frightening to consider the implications of so many working together, especially under the lead of Conall.

  As Conall cleared his throat, all fell silent. “Today, we were victorious!” he began, his voice booming.

  “Today,” Maarav said sarcastically under his breath as the settlers let out a cheer.

  “Tomorrow,” Conall continued, “our chances of survival are slim.”

  All fell silent again.

  Iseult shifted his weight impatiently from foot to foot, anxious for the speech to reach its end so they could continue searching for a way out of the city without being seen by the regrouped troops of An Fiach.

  “As many of you know,” Conall said, his voice taking on a softer tone, easily heard in the utter silence, “I am not a man of these lands. I hail from the borders of the North. In the past, you would have called me a reiver. A mindless, killing bandit, feared, and never befriended.”

  Murmurs of acceptance echoed throughout the crowd, letting Iseult know that this was common knowledge. That the settlers were so accepting of Conall proved how desperate they’d been. It was unheard of for reivers to live amongst the more civilized folk.

  “These men, calling themselves An Fiach, would judge you as I’ve been judged,” he went on. “They would put you to the question, but would never be satisfied of your answers. There is no peace to be had, save the cool embrace of death.” He paused for dramatic emphasis.

  Maarav sighed.

  “And so we must fight!” Conall shouted.

  The crowd cheered.

  Iseult shook his head. Without a plan, they would fight and die, even with their magic to bolster them. With the next onslaught, An Fiach would be prepared for what they faced. They had thought the ruined city an easy victory, and so had not come equipped for true battle.

  As the cheers died down, Conall continued. “An Fiach may have reinforcements on the way, but so do we, and no man of this land can fight with more fervor than my kinsmen!”

  As the crowd cheered once more, Maarav groaned, likely coming to the same conclusion as Iseult. Conall had formed an army of magic users, not out of benevolence, but to bolster his own invasion. The Northern reivers were at an advantage, as the greater cities were distracted by the chaos brought on by the returning Faie. They would strike while everyone was on guard against the Tuatha, never realizing that the more immediate danger came in human form.

  Maarav leaned in close to Iseult’s shoulder. “If we needed to leave this place before,” he murmured, “it was nothing compared to the need for escape now.”

  Iseult nodded. They would stand better chances against An Fiach than they would against the reivers, who were great in number, and ferocious in combat. The settlers who’d proven themselves in battle would likely be forced to join the reivers cause. They would have little choice but to turn traitors against their kin, a worthwhile opportunity to some, considering many of their kin betrayed them first, but not all would agree.

  Iseult glanced at Ealasaid, who stood on Maarav’s other side, to find her hanging on Conall’s every word as he continued to speak. Not all would agree, but some would jump at the opportunity.

  Maarav leaned close to Ealasaid’s shoulder and muttered something, though all Iseult could make out was, lightning bolts.

  He looked to his other side to see how Àed was taking the speech, but the old man had vanished. Iseult frowned, wondering what he was up to, then turned his attention back to Conall.

  Iseult’s eyes narrowed as the reiver continued to bluster on, though he’d already stated the most important fact. Reivers would be joining them in the city. They would come from the North, either along the coast, or through the forest, and would be unable to use the front gates because of the placement of An Fiach. This all meant one very important thing to Iseult. There was another way out of the city. One that would allow a large group of fighters, along with their horses and supplies, to pass into the city unnoticed. Now all Iseult needed to do was find it.

  “I thought we were going to save people!” Anders cried out. He was bruised, dirty, and had blood on his shoes. He didn’t even know whose blood it was. The woods had grown dark, making him jump at every sound.

  “Quiet,” Radley hissed as he led the small group of men back to the larger camp.

  Anders stumbled to keep up. Radley had found him shortly after Ealasaid ran off with that man who looked eerily like Iseult. Anders hadn’t had the heart to tell his commander that he’d been attempting to run away from the fighting. He had no business killing humans. It was the Faie who took his sister.

  On a surge of adrenaline, he grabbed Radley’s beefy bicep and spun him around. Once they reached the larger contingent of men, there would be no time to talk, and Anders would be trapped once more.

  Radley gave Anders such a look that he was surprised his hand didn’t melt on the spot.

  Swallowing the lump in his throat, Anders asked, “What are we doing killing innocent humans? That’s not the purpose of An Fiach.”

  The few men who accompanied them nodded in agreement. They were what was left of Radley’s entire crew. The others had all been killed by the magic users in the ruined city.

  Radley sucked his teeth, then spat, pulling his arm away from Anders in the process. “We’re following orders,” he said gruffly.

  “Whose?” Anders asked, more surprised than anyone at his own gall.

  Radley shook his head like Anders had asked a very silly question. “An Fiach.”

  Unwilling to let the subject go, Anders immediately asked, “But who leads An Fiach? Until a few days ago, I thought you were our leader.”

  “I am,” Radley growled, puffing out his chest, “but in war, there are generals, and there are kings.”

  “But who’s the king?” one of the other men piped in.

  Radley narrowed his eyes at the man, but didn’t answer.

  Anders’ jaw went slack with realization. “You don’t know, do you?”

  Radley turned his withering gaze to Anders. “Are you coming, or not?”

  Anders seriously considered saying no. He’d seen far too much death that day, and Ealasaid’s rage-filled eyes still haunted him. The Hunt had killed her family, and Anders was a member. She hated him, and would so long as he remained by Radley’s side.

  “A deserter then?” Radley asked, sensing Anders’ hesitation.

  Anders felt so anxious that he thought he might pop. “I joined this cause to find my sister and the monsters who took her. I saw no monsters today, except maybe An Fiach.”

  The men around them went utterly silent. No one insulted An Fiach in front of Radley. No one.

  Radley pursed his mouth and let the silence draw out. Finally, just when Anders thought he couldn’t take
another moment, Radley spoke. “Perhaps you’re right. Who am I to judge men from monsters? All I know is that I took an oath, and I will uphold it.”

  Mustering every ounce of bravery he could, Anders replied, “I took no such oath.”

  Radley smirked, then thumped his hand against Anders’ chest, near the red wolf insignia. “You took that oath the moment you put on the uniform of An Fiach.”

  Flustered, Anders quickly removed his coat with the red wolf insignia and threw it on the ground. If he left the Hunt, he had nowhere else to go, but in that moment, he didn’t care. He never wanted anyone else to look at him the way Ealasaid had.

  Radley glanced at the coat on the rocky ground, then turned on his heel and walked away. The other men, who’d just moments before seemed to be on Anders’ side, gave him a wide berth as they walked around him.

  “You’re just going to leave?” Anders shouted at their backs.

  “An Fiach has no time for deserters!” Radley shouted without turning around. “The wolves will be around for you soon!”

  Anders watched in shock as the men he’d considered friends faded into the darkness. He’d somehow deserted An Fiach without really thinking about it. He looked back over his shoulder, then forward to where the men had disappeared, not knowing which way to go.

  If he tried to return to the ruined city, surely he would be killed, and now the same fate likely awaited him with An Fiach. He looked down at his coat again, not wanting to put in back on, but knowing he had to if he didn’t want to freeze. He might freeze regardless.

  He crouched down and lifted the garment, then donned it reluctantly. He shifted his shoulders to straighten the coat, and something crinkled in his breast pocket.

  Holding his breath, he tentatively reached his fingers into the pocket to pull out a crumpled piece of parchment. He unfolded it to read the words, Meet me on the coast, two hundred paces north of the city.

  Anders read over the note again, but there was no hint of who’d written it. Had Radley slipped it into his coat pocket, or perhaps one of the other men? He shook his head. He had no idea who’d written the note, but in his current condition, he’d be a fool not to cling to any ray of hope that was offered.

  Chapter Eleven

  Lightning crashed overhead, startling Finn awake. Confused, Finn took in her surroundings, finally realizing that she’d fallen asleep in a chair in Anna’s cabin. Her chair teetered dangerously as the ship swayed in the storm. The lantern that hung from the ceiling swung about erratically, casting dizzying shadows around the room. The only other light came through the room’s sole window. Its shutters had been closed against the storm, but dim light and water still seeped through.

  Finn glanced at Anna’s bed. She was still asleep, motionless and quiet, though that hadn’t been the case when they’d first arrived in her cabin.

  After the incident with the Sirens, Finn had accompanied Kai to check on Anna. She wasn’t keen on doing anything nice for Anna, but she also wasn’t about to let Kai get drowned by any Sirens who might return, not after all she’d done to save him. She shivered as she thought about the two men who hadn’t been saved, basically strangers to her, yet their deaths stung all the same.

  Anna hadn’t answered her door when Kai pounded on it, so he deftly picked the lock while Finn watched in awe, thinking it was a skill she’d like to learn.

  Once the door was open, they’d found Anna tossing about in her bed, drenched in sweat and muttering nonsense. Kai had attempted to shake her awake, but no matter what they did, Anna stayed in a deep, fitful sleep.

  They had waited with her, hoping that she’d wake on her own, and at some point Finn had fallen asleep in her chair, and morning had come, along with a storm. Kai had been there last she saw, but was now missing, likely on deck given the shouting she could hear through the door whenever the thunder died down.

  With a final glance at Anna, she stood, then nearly lost her footing as the ship lurched violently, sending her now vacant chair crashing to the floor.

  Extending her arms for balance, she made her way to the door, glad that the larger pieces of furniture were bolted to the deck.

  She turned the handle and tugged at the door, but it wouldn’t budge. The wind roared outside, followed by several more thunderclaps. She tugged again as the storm fought her for control of the door, then a sudden gust in the opposite direction tore the handle from her grasp and opened the door outward to slam against the exterior wall of the cabin. Anna’s papers whooshed up from her desk, creating their own little whirlwind, but still Anna didn’t wake.

  Finn forced her upper body through the doorway, clinging to the jamb as the rain pelleted her. Judging by how long she’d slept, it was daytime, but it almost seemed like night with the darkness of the storm.

  The deck was in utter chaos. Kai, along with the remaining crewmen, hustled about, getting drenched while they tried to maintain control of the ship’s sails. Sativola was nearest to Anna’s cabin, and seeing Finn, he shouted for her to get back inside.

  She lingered long enough to watch in awe as a brilliant lightning bolt lit the gray sky, then she struggled against the wind to pull the cabin door shut, sealing herself and Anna inside.

  She took a few steps away from the now closed door, feeling like electricity was dancing across her skin. Her face felt numb from the cold rain and wind, or perhaps it was from shock. She’d never seen such a ferocious storm, at least that she could recall. It was unfortunate that such a phenomena would occur while they were in the middle of the ocean.

  Feeling off kilter, as if lifting her feet too high would make her launch into the air, she made her way to Anna’s bedside. Throughout all of the motion and noise, the woman still slept, clinging to a pillow with her long, dark hair plastered to the sides of her face with sweat.

  Finn glared down at her. “I’m going to be very upset if you’re the person I have to die with,” she muttered.

  Another gust of wind violently swayed the ship, and she took a quick seat on the side of Anna’s bed, clutching the small, wooden headboard for balance.

  Wanting something, anything to distract herself from the image of Kai or the other men being thrown overboard in the storm, she grabbed Anna by the shoulder and shook her. A futile attempt, as the woman had already proven herself unresponsive.

  Yet, to Finn’s surprise, Anna’s eyes opened just a sliver, then opened more to reveal only the whites, with her pupils rolled back into her head.

  Finn leaned away from the eerie sight, but didn’t stand, fearing she’d just fall right back onto the bed. Anna’s hand lifted from the bedding, making slow progress toward her.

  Finn froze, unsure of what was happening. Anna’s hand found Finn’s cheek and cradled it gently, as Anna’s lips muttered, “Mo gealbhan beag milis.”

  Her hand dropped back to her side as her eyes rolled forward. Then she began to scream.

  Finn screamed right along with her.

  “Get out of my head!” Anna shouted, as her hands batted at Finn.

  Finn stumbled up and off the bed, only to trip and fall on the floor. “I’m not in your head!” she shouted as she scurried further away from Anna.

  The door to Anna’s cabin flew open, and the next thing Finn knew, a sopping wet Naoki had pounced on her chest, knocking her back flat on the ground. The little dragon shivered and made mewling noises in its throat, deeply afraid.

  Finn clutched Naoki to her chest, then craned her neck to see Kai closing the cabin door behind him. He was just as dripping wet as Naoki, and seemed almost as concerned. She had caught a brief glimpse of the sky through the door, and though it still rained, it seemed the worst was beginning to pass. She noticed with a start that at some point the ship had stopped swaying so violently, but she’d been so caught up in Anna’s actions, she hadn’t realized when it happened.

  Kai walked past her and approached Anna, who was clutching the sides of her head and rocking back and forth with her eyes shut tight. She was mumbling some
thing, but it wasn’t loud enough for Finn to hear.

  Kai looked unsure of what to do to help her. He glanced back toward at Finn as she struggled back into a sitting position on the floor, forcing the wet dragon to her lap.

  “She was muttering in her sleep,” Finn explained as she stroked Naoki’s damp feathers. “I went to her, and she said something to me. Something like, mo gealbhan beag milis.”

  Kai looked to Anna again. “What does it mean?” he asked softly.

  Finn bit her lip. “It means, my little sparrow. I’m not sure how I know that, but I feel like I’ve heard it before.”

  Kai moved toward the bed and laid his hand gently on Anna’s shoulder, but she didn’t seem to notice.

  “She hasn’t been herself since the Travelers took her,” he explained, his gaze remaining on Anna instead of Finn, “and I think it’s getting worse.”

  He turned and looked to Finn hopefully.

  Finn frowned. “If you expect me to talk to her, you’re madder than she is,” she grumbled. “Anna has not had a kind word to say to me since she became Anna instead of Liaden. Not to mention, I’m on this ship because she kidnapped me. She can lose her mind entirely for all I’m concerned.”

  Kai gave her a patient look and waited.

  Finn glared at him as the ship gave another gentle lurch in the wind. “Stop looking at me like that. I mean what I said.”

  Kai tilted his head and looked at her a little harder. His sopping wet hair dripped water down his face in steady rivulets onto his already soaked through clothes.

  Naoki began to chirp and chitter in Finn’s lap.

  “No,” Finn stated again. “Even if I knew how to help her, she doesn’t deserve it.”

  Kai sighed and sat down by Anna’s unresponsive form. He patted Anna’s back comfortingly, though she still didn’t seem to notice. He turned back to Finn hopefully.

  “No,” Finn stated.

  Kai sighed again. “If not for Anna, then do it for me.”

  Finn stopped petting Naoki and crossed her arms, much to Naoki’s chagrin. “With that in mind, I want to help even less.”