Tree of Ages 2 Read online

  When he was young, he’d avoided Migris because his mother had been killed for his alleged crimes. Though the thought of death at the time was a welcome idea, he wouldn't give the city the satisfaction. If he died, it would be with his sword drenched in the blood of his enemies. In later years, when he would no longer be recognized, he could admit that he’d stayed away out of guilt. He couldn't face the city where his mother had died because of him.

  Now he would finally return. He would find Finn, and she would help him right the wrongs of his people, his mother's lifelong wish. His people had been cursed to destruction, and he was the only one left to lift that burden. Perhaps once that was done, he could rest easy for the first time in his life. Then again, perhaps not. He was not a man accustomed to a normal life, and was not sure inaction would ever suit him.

  He passed through the refugee camps unhindered as his long legs carried him toward the distant coast. He didn’t need the salty air, or the distant call of sea birds to tell him the ocean was near. He felt it in his bones, an exhilarating mixture of fear and feeling utterly at home.

  It wasn’t long before the water came into view. The sea pounded the shore angrily, displaying its deep green and blue tones that shifted to white froth upon impact. The texture of the earth changed beneath his feet as he continued to walk, from slippery grass to soft, damp sand. Though he had spent years away from the ocean, it still felt like home to him. His people were sailors. The sea was in his blood.

  He looked to his right at the empty expanse of coast, then to the South, where he could barely see the busy docks. He knew that past the docks, was a costal inlet inside the city walls. Beyond that, the gates butted up against jagged rocks, too high to climb, and if you somehow managed it, an abundance of rope would be needed to lower yourself down the other side. The inlet was his aim.

  He double checked that his weapons were all secure, and his boots tightly laced, then he approached the frothy water’s edge. He entered the freezing cold water without hesitation. The waves crashed around him as he dove forward, propelling himself past the violent waves toward calmer waters. Once he was far enough out, he began swimming South. He knew it would be a long swim, but an easy one. The cold barely touched him, and he had no fear of the creatures that lurked in the depths. The sea was in his blood, after all.

  He swam on, never tiring, thinking of what might come next. He had a sea map to the Archtree, which he’d left strapped to his horse back with Àed. Once they had Finn, they would need to find a ship, not an easy task. Hiring enough crewmen to make the journey would be expensive, and hiring men that would be trustworthy was nearly impossible. Still, it had to be done. He’d believed Finn when she said she had no idea where the shroud of the Faie Queen was, so they needed the Archtree to find it. Once they had the location, they could hunt down the shroud, and Iseult could bestow it upon Finn. Perhaps then, his curse would finally be lifted.

  Before he knew it, he’d reached the inlet. The chilly air was a shock as he climbed out of the water, but he barely noticed, so intent was he on his mission. He ignored the nagging anxiety of returning to the city of his childhood as he left the shore and progressed to the nearest buildings, mainly middle class homes. Once amongst the homes, he began to jog, unwilling to waste an unnecessary second.

  His black clothes began to dry with the added movement as he made his way through the streets of Migris, doing his best to ignore the sights and sounds around him. He needed to reach an inn if he wanted to gather information. He was so close.

  He wound his way to the inner city, dominated by shops and inns rather than residences, not acknowledging the curious glances of passersby. He had begun to approach an inn named The Melted Sea, when something stopped him. There was a man watching him from a few paces away, not with the subtle glances of the other city folk, but with an intent, knowing gaze. Iseult eyed him directly. The man nodded to him, then turned to walk into a dark alleyway.

  The man’s face had been partially shadowed by the hood of his black cloak, but there was something naggingly familiar about him. Unable to shake the feeling that this mysterious person might have information about Finn, Iseult veered from his course and followed the figure into the alleyway.

  Moments later, he was face to face with a man who looked alarmingly like . . . well, like him.

  “It's good to see that the blood is still around. I was beginning to think that I was the last one left,” the man stated.

  Iseult's fingers twitched around the short sword at his hip, but he did not draw it. “The blood?” he questioned.

  “Of Uí Néid,” the man went on. “I'm thinking that seeing you here means that you've come to the same conclusion as I.”

  He'd mentioned Uí Néid, Iseult’s homeland. It had been a long time since he'd heard a stranger mutter that name, let alone a stranger that others might think kin to him, based on appearance.

  “And what conclusion is that?” Iseult asked apathetically.

  “That the Cavari have returned along with the Faie” the man answered.

  Iseult glanced about them, but they were completely alone. He drew his attention back to the man before him. The Cavari were, of course, of great interest to any who hailed from Uí Néid, but few would know such a thing.

  “How do you know me?” he demanded.

  The man smiled, but the gesture was neither warm, nor reassuring. “It would be a shame for a man not to recognize his own brother.”

  Rage overcame Iseult. How dare this imposter claim to be something he was not? “My brother is dead,” he growled.

  The other man did not falter. “My name is Maarav Mac Aodha, son of Brógán Mac Aodha, and I am very much alive.”

  “How?” Iseult asked, taken aback. His older brother had fallen ill when they were children, and had passed long before their mother had. Many children died during that time.

  The man who claimed to be Maarav clapped him on the back. “That is a story for another time. Right now, we must catch a ship.”

  “I don’t have time for this,” Iseult growled. “I’m looking for a girl,” he added, just in the off chance this imposter might have information regarding Finn.

  The man calling himself Maarav grinned. “What a strange twist of fate. So am I. Actually, I was just heading off to find her.”

  Iseult couldn’t help his surprise. This man couldn’t be his brother, but he was still clearly of his blood, however distantly. Could he have recognized Finn, just as he had? If that was the case, he likely intended to harm her. Few hailing from Uí Néid would suffer one of the Cavari to live, even if she came in the form of a pretty, young girl.

  “If you intend to harm her . . . ” Iseult warned, letting the threat hang in the air.

  His alleged brother grinned. “Now, now. I was simply following her out of curiosity. She doesn’t seem the type to murder women and children, and so I would not harm her, unless she offered me violence to begin with.”

  Iseult felt like electricity was filling his body, coursing down to his fingertips that itched to retrieve his sword. Making an impulsive judgement, he forced himself to relax. “Lead the way.”

  The Maarav imposter grinned, then took off running down the alleyway, his cloak billowing behind him. Iseult followed. Eventually it became clear that they were heading toward the docks. Those milling about in the street cleared a path, not used to seeing two unusually tall men, dressed in black, running as if their lives depended on it. The distant crash of the ocean resonated with Iseult as he ran. He was so close.

  He pushed onward, and the docks came into view. Following the billowing black cloak ahead of him, he bounded down the city steps until his feet met with the wooden planks suspended above the water. He halted suddenly beside his guide and looked to him for information. There were several scores of ships, and he did not know which one he needed.

  His brother scanned the row of ships as he panted. “We are too late. I thought to simply retrieve some supplies before attempting to hire on a
s one of the crewmen. I did not think they would depart so hastily.”

  Iseult followed Maarav’s gaze as he watched a ship disappearing over the watery horizon. Iseult took a step forward, prepared to swim after it, but Maarav took hold of his arm.

  Iseult eyed him coldly.

  “Think, brother,” the imposter cautioned. “Even if you were able to catch them, you would be half dead by that point. They would have to haul you on board, and you'd be in no position to rescue anyone. We must be smart about this.”

  Not acknowledging anything Maarav was saying, Iseult continued to stare. “Where are they sailing?”

  Before Maarav could answer, a child came to stand before them. He couldn't have been more than six or seven, but his jaded, ruddy brown eyes made him seem much older. Those eyes held experiences that no child of that age should know.

  “Can we help you?” Maarav asked, still gripping Iseult's arm tightly.

  The child looked like he might flee at the sight of the two men, one still slightly damp from the ocean, but he held his ground. “I was asked to deliver a message to a tall man in black, with eyes like a cat. I'm not sure which of you it is meant for.”

  Iseult held out his hand for the message, but the boy dropped it to his side. He looked down at the ground, obviously nervous. “I was told I'd be paid for my trouble,” he muttered quietly.

  Maarav chuckled, in much better spirits than Iseult, and searched his pockets. A moment later he produced several coins and handed them to the boy.

  The boy snatched the coins, then handed the parchment to Iseult. As soon as the paper was relinquished, he turned and ran. Iseult unrolled the letter and read it quickly. Soon, a wry smile crossed his face.

  “Now that's a scary smile if I've ever seen one,” Maarav commented, but Iseult did not reply.

  Not all was lost. Perhaps, in the end, he might be able to let Kai live. That was, if the letter was not a lie.

  Finn threw herself against the wooden door frantically, but it wouldn't budge. After Kai and Anna had revealed their plans, she'd been thrown into a cabin below deck. The heavy door was bolted from the outside, and no matter how many times she attacked it, it would not budge.

  She’d screamed for help as the ship began gently rocking, and could hear men yelling, preparing to leave the port. Then she’d thrown herself against the door repeatedly, but it was no use.

  She had tried to remember what it felt like when she’d called the earth to save her and Bedelia from the wolves, but she’d felt no returning call. She was surrounded by water. It simply didn't resonate with her like the earth did. She’d then collapsed in a heap and began to cry. Iseult and Àed could have been reaching the city at that very moment, and Bedelia, poor Bedelia would be arriving to an empty room. Finn wouldn't be able to tell her that she needed medicine for her injuries. Without Finn to help her, she would die.

  The anguish was too much for her as the ship reached deeper waters and calmed its motion. Her chance to escape was gone, but that didn’t mean she would give up on escaping her cabin. She glanced around the room for something to aid her, and almost considered using the small hanging lantern that lit her room to start a fire, but she soon dismissed the idea. It would do her no good to burn herself alive.

  She wiped at her puffy, damp face in irritation. She might have considered stabbing Kai several times over the course of their relationship, but the next time she got the chance, she would not throw it away.

  Feeling weak and powerless, she crawled to the nearby straw mat with a pillow, and curled up in the bedding to cry. The ship’s rocking lessened as time passed, and utterly exhausted, she drifted off to sleep.

  The next morning, at least she thought it was morning, Finn awoke to find her entire body ached from her efforts against the locked door. Her lantern had burned out, leaving her in utter darkness. When the door suddenly opened of its own accord to let in a sliver of light, she thought perhaps she was dreaming.

  The relatively pleasant dream was shattered as a man with curly blond hair, and a fresh red scar across his forehead stepped into view, a new lantern illuminating his face, as well as a measure of sunlight streaming in behind him. In his free hand, he carried a tray of food that looked minuscule in his meaty palms. His smile for her seemed genuine.

  “I've brought ye some breakfast, lass,” he announced.

  Finn eyed him cautiously as he entered the room and set the tray down beside her on the straw mat where she’d slept. She looked down at the food, an assortment of small, preserved fish with bread and fresh butter, then looked back up to the man numbly as he replaced her lantern with the new one.

  “It's not poison,” he encouraged, glancing down at the food. “There's no use bringing someone on board a ship just to poison them, though I do suppose the ocean would make disposin' of the body an easy task.”

  “Was that supposed to be comforting?” Finn asked weakly.

  The man chuckled, then moved to sit in the only seat the room had to offer, a short, wide stool, perfect for maintaining balance in choppy waters. “Once ye’ve finished eating, I'll show ye around the ship.”

  Finn's eyes widened in surprise. “So I'm not to remain in this room the entire journey?”

  The man laughed again. “What's yer name?”

  Seeing no reason to lie, since Kai and Anna already knew her true identity, she answered, “Finn, and yours?”

  “Sativola,” he replied.

  Finn smiled, though she knew it held little warmth. Still, she wasn't about to alienate the only person who was attempting to be nice to her. She picked at her breakfast, not wanting to eat, but would, knowing she'd need strength when the time came to fight. There might be little she could do on the ship, but they'd have to dock at some point. She'd sooner die than help Kai and Anna do anything. Perhaps if she was nice enough, she could even persuade Sativola to help her escape.

  “Did they tell you where we're going, Sativola?” Finn asked slyly while she rearranged the fish on her plate.

  The large man shrugged. “Searching for an island in the North, apparently.”

  Finn nodded, realizing she’d have to give information to get it. “They want the shroud of the Faie Queen.”

  Sativola burst into laughter, slapping his knee at the joke. He waggled a sausage-like finger at her. “Yer a fun one, ye are. The shroud is just a myth. A faiery story told to young children.”

  Finn gave him her best blank expression.

  His look of consternation wrinkled the scar on his forehead. “Yer not jokin', are ye?”

  Finn shook her head as she lifted one of the fish to take a bite. It was horribly salty.

  “Then were do ye come in?” he pressed. “Why would Anna need a pretty little lass like yerself to find a shroud of legend?”

  She shrugged and lounged back on her straw mat, attempting to act casual. “I've no idea, really.”

  Sativola grunted. “How am I supposed to get paid, when the valuable item we search for doesn't exist?”

  Finn smiled, proud that she was managing such a clever manipulation. “I've better things to do with my time as well.”

  Sativola leaned back on his stool, balancing precariously with two of its pegs off the ground. He seemed deep in thought for a moment, and Finn thought she might have found an ally, but then he shrugged. “I trust Anna to pay me, one way or another. Even if it's from her personal purse.”

  Finn's hopes deflated. She pushed the barely eaten breakfast away from her.

  Watching her movements, Sativola raised his bushy eyebrows. “Ready to see the rest of the ship?”

  Finn sighed. She might as well. “That would be lovely,” she said graciously as she stood.

  Sativola was up in an instant, holding the door open for her to walk through ahead of him.

  First he showed her everything below deck, though it held little of Finn's interest. It was all just wooden walls and storage. She could barely pay attention to any of it, as she was overcome with a much more pressing
concern. Her legs weren't working properly, and she felt a peculiar queasiness. She had felt ill lying in bed too, but she'd passed it off as her body reacting to her devastation. Now the sickness was increasing with every step, and she felt almost as if her body was leaning sideways while she walked.

  She stopped moving, feeling about ready to lose the small amount of breakfast she'd eaten.

  Sativola took one look at her and frowned. “Looks like yer yet to find yer sea legs, lass.”

  Finn closed her eyes against the dizziness, but it only made things worse. The next thing she knew, Sativola had scooped her up in his arms. She had the sensation of moving upward as the sound of Sativola's footsteps became more hollow, then she was hit with the refreshing sea air. She opened her eyes slowly, assaulted by the brightness of the sun reflecting off clear water.

  Seeming to sense her stomach’s unease, Sativola rushed her over to the side of the ship and put her down. She held onto the railings while her measly, partially digested breakfast went overboard. Sativola's large palm holding onto the back of her dress was a comfort. She had no desire to follow her breakfast into the choppy waters below.

  When she was finished, Sativola guided her backward, then left her to sit on the wooden planks of the ship while he stood. “Take as long as ye need, lass,” he instructed.

  She feared she'd need a few years to regain herself, but didn't express her worries out loud. Instead, she glanced around the deck. There seemed to be few crew members, and only three that she could see at that moment: Sativola standing beside her, the brute who'd manhandled her, doing something with the sail, and a scrawny looking man doing something at the back of the ship. Kai and Anna were nowhere to be seen. She looked down at her hands in her lap. Her knuckles and the sides of her palms were swollen and bruised from banging on the door of her locked cabin. She had no doubt her arms would show similar bruises if she were to roll up her sleeves.

  Feeling morose, she turned to say something to Sativola, but screamed instead as something came rushing down at her from the sky. The shape flipped around in the air erratically, before propelling itself straight for Finn.