The Blood Forest (The Tree of Ages Series Book 3) Page 21

  Kai jabbed his heels into his horse, then took of at a gallop. He glanced over his shoulder to see the distant riders launching into motion. The ground exploded all around, dirt flying everywhere. Lightning stabbed at what protruded, followed by waves of fire. Winds blew so powerfully that even from the distance, Kai was nearly swept from his mount.

  Trusting in Ealasaid and the others, he leaned forward in the saddle and urged his horse into a full blown run, down the road toward Greenswallow.

  “AGAIN!” Ealasaid shouted.

  Another wave of magic surrounded the Riders, who had not been slowed for long. Though impacted by the magic, injuries were not sustained as the Riders would fade from sight, avoiding peril, only to reappear in pursuit of Kai.

  Ealasaid cried out, “We must stop them another way! Forward!”

  Anna, Sativola, and Maarav, now on their horses, were the first to ride forward, prepared to intercept the Riders. The magic users were not far behind, some riding, some running at full speed.

  Running as fast as she could, Ealasaid watched as those on horseback met the Riders, soon backed up by those on foot. Though their enemies numbered only six, the magic users began to fall beneath gleaming blades. Those still standing fought on. She knew they trusted Grelka’s proclamation that the Riders must be stopped at all costs, even if it meant many would die.

  Her lungs burning from exertion, Ealasaid reached the fight, then froze. She watched as Anna parried an attack from one of the dark Riders, then Sativola jumped in, sparing Anna injury. Ealasaid lifted her arms, but wasn’t sure what to do. Some of the magic users could create fire, which could be aimed, but her lightning tended to be more erratic. Sure, she could hit one of the Riders, but there was nothing to prevent her from hitting one of her friends.

  She screamed as a Rider slashed a short sword at Ouve, and her lightning came down almost unbidden, distracting Ouve’s attacker. Seeming to sense an opportunity, Maarav darted in and slashed his blade deep into the attacker’s leg, toppling the Rider to the ground.

  Ealasaid gasped with momentary elation, before the Rider rolled to its feet and cut down the first magic user, a young woman, who got in its path. Ealasaid screamed, but it was too late. The woman fell in a bloody heap, her face in the dirt.

  Ealasaid struck the offending Rider again with her lightning, but it was no use. The Riders seemed invincible. Grelka must have misjudged the situation. They would have to fall back to the safety of the burgh, lest they all lose their lives.

  She was prepared to give the order, then her eyes nearly popped out of her skull at what she saw.

  Black clad forms raced forward from the tree line, weapons raised high. She recognized Maarav’s former mentor, Slàine, as she launched herself through the air and swiped her blade across the hooded neck of one of the riders. To Ealasaid’s surprise, the rider toppled from its horse. It fell to the ground and was swarmed with black clad forms, like wolves piling on top of their prey. Weapons flashed, then the assassins fell away. Beneath them was an empty black cloak.

  Hope renewed, Ealasaid flung lightning at another rider, distracting it for the split second it took for the assassins to attack. Seeming to catch on, the other magic users renewed their attacks, bathing the riders in flame and ice. One by one, they were taken down, by magic and blades alike, leaving behind empty cloaks. Their horses galloped away to disappear into the forest, as impervious to their wounds as the Riders.

  Ealasaid rushed forward as Anna repeatedly stabbed the remaining form, even after it had turned into nothing more than a cloak.

  “Where did they go?” one of the new members of An Solas asked, glancing around frantically.

  “They are nothing more than ghosts,” Slàine hissed, lowering her black cowl from her face as she stalked forward. “Overwhelm them with physical attacks and they cannot sustain themselves.”

  “We couldn’t harm them with our magic,” Ealasaid panted.

  Slàine nodded. “They are magic. The best way to send them away is cold iron,” she hesitated at the expression on Ealasaid’s flushed, blood-flecked face, “but you at least proved a noble distraction,” she added. She turned her attention away from Ealasaid and seemed to be counting her assassins. Several had fallen in the short, chaotic fight.

  Ealasaid searched around the empty cloaks, assessing the casualties. A certain gray-haired lump caught her eye. She rushed forward toward Grelka, who clutched at her knit shawl, blood slowly blossoming across her chest.

  Reaching her, Ealasaid dropped to her knees, placing a shaky hand gently on her shoulder. Grelka’s face was ghostly pale, her eyes mere slits.

  “I thought you said things were as they should be,” Ealasaid cried, feeling like her heart was being torn in two. “I thought we would be victorious.”

  Grelka led out a gasping laugh that ended with her sputtering up blood. “We are,” she hissed. “Kai will make it in time. His success is all that truly matters.”

  “But-” she hesitated, glancing at the fallen around her. Too many corpses littered the battlefield, some even younger than she. “Was it worth so many lives?”

  Grelka patted Ealasaid’s hand weakly. “This had to happen . . . for us to stand a chance,” she gasped. “In my dreams I saw two paths. One, where we would fight for our lives, but live free from hiding, and another, where we would cower and live as slaves.” She smiled softly. “I’ve never backed down from a proper fight, and now it is your turn. Lead An Solas into a new age.” Her eyes slowly fluttered shut.

  Though she’d known Grelka a short time, her loss felt great, along with the others of An Solas that had fallen. Tears streamed down her face and plopped onto her bloody hands, still gripping Grelka’s lifeless form. She could not bear to observe the other casualties. She’d seen that Anna was still alive, but many others had died. She struggled as arms wrapped around her from behind, lifting her to standing. She sensed her new captor was only trying to help, but she didn’t want it. She didn’t want to think. She clenched her eyes shut, unable to bear the sight of the maimed dead.

  The arms around her resisted her struggles until she went limp and cracked open her teary eyes. She craned her neck to see a familiar blood-stained face next to hers. Maarav. She exhaled in relief, realizing the possibility of his death had been the one she feared most. She managed to smile up at him through her tears, but he was looking toward Slàine.

  “I’d expected a dagger in the back the next time we crossed paths,” he commented coolly.

  Stepping away from the empty cloak she’d been examining, Slàine glared at him. “You always were a bit of a fool. I’d hoped to prevent any of this.”

  His arms still around Ealasaid, he waited for Slàine to explain herself.

  Instead, she turned to her fellow assassins. “Help them burn their dead,” she ordered, “then meet us at the inn.” She turned back to Maarav. “We have much to discuss.”

  FINN SCRAPED FRANTICALLY at the earth. Her skin had long since been rubbed raw, her fingernails cracked and filled with black soil. She could feel power radiating from the earth below her, but it was still out of reach. Though Loinnir fidgeted with worry, Finn could not take the time to consider the cause. She just knew she had to reach the shroud before Oighear, the Cavari, or anyone else could show up to snatch it away from her.

  Something cool touched her sweaty cheek, drawing her momentarily from her task. Snowflakes. Had Oighear’s snow reached this far? Was she coming for her? Her fervor increasing, she turned back to her digging while Loinnir stomped in agitation beside her.

  More snowflakes stung her face, and began sticking to her tangled hair. She glanced again at the white flecks drifting in, then narrowed her eyes at something in the distance. Riders, six of them. The central rider wore a full, white fur coat, frothing up around her shoulders to meld with her white hair. Oighear. Near the hooves of Oighear’s horse was a smaller white form, stooped low to the ground. She couldn’t quite make out what it was. As she watched, several more riders m
oved into view to flank the others.

  Fear exploding through her mind, she turned back to her digging. The shroud was her only hope. Perhaps with its added power, she might best Oighear. Just a little while longer, and the shroud would be hers. She frantically pushed her fingers through the soil and hit soft fabric. Her heart jumping in her throat, she wrapped her fingers around the silky textile and pulled upward. The shroud came free from the earth as she stood, littering the ground with specks of fresh soil. She stared awestruck at the magical garment dangling from her hand, not quite believing she’d actually found it.

  She slowly turned her gaze away from the shroud, feeling like she was in a dream. The riders thundered toward her, their hoofbeats seeming louder than they really were. Loinnir stomped in agitation, but remained faithfully at her side. She stood with the tattered shroud in her hands, ready to protect herself, then dizziness hit her. Her breath slowed. She blinked as the riders came in and out of focus, moving impossibly slow. Suddenly she found herself in a different place. No, she wasn’t in a new place. Her body had not left the meadow. She was only in a memory, sealed deep within her mind.

  HER DAUGHTER’S SMALL BODY, limp in her arms, covered in blood. She’d long since grown cold, but Finn refused to let her go. Finn’s mother, Móirne, stood at her back in the windowless, candle-lit room, unspeaking.

  Finn’s entire body shook with tears. She had never wanted any part in the dealings of the Cavari, their treaties nor their wars. She did not care about her birthright, the Faie shroud, or the Aos Sí. The endless battles for power were futile.

  Now, because of their wars, she’d lost the only thing she truly cared about. Those lowly sailors had killed her little girl to send a message to the Cavari. A message received solely by her. Her people cared not for her loss. It did not affect them.

  She staggered to her feet, her lifeless child still in her arms, and moved toward her mother. Their eyes met.

  “Tend to her,” Finn ordered, forcing her tears to still.

  “What will you do?” Móirne asked, taking the dead child from Finn’s arms. Tears threatened her blue eyes. While Móirne held little love for their clan, she feared them. She had remained obedient, playing her part in their games while her own granddaughter paid the price.

  “They have taken my heart,” Finn heard herself say. “My soul. Now I’m going to take theirs.”

  She turned away from Móirne, still cradling Finn’s lifeless daughter, and took the Faie Queen’s shroud in her hands. The people of Uí Néid would pay for what they’d done, even if it killed her.

  “FINN!” Iseult shouted, arms chained to his sides. The Aos Sí rider holding the reins to his horse drew the animal to an abrupt halt, nearly dislodging him from the animal’s back.

  As soon as she’d stood with the shroud, she’d gone utterly still. Her gaze was distant, as if she wasn’t really there.

  Beside him, Oighear dismounted and handed Naoki’s tether to one of the mounted Aos Sí. The dragon struggled against her tether, shrieking through the bindings on her beak, desperately clawing at the ground.

  Two more Aos Sí approached on foot and pulled Iseult from his mount, throwing him to the hard soil, pressing his face in the dirt. He struggled, cutting his cheek on the rocky ground, turning his head just enough to see Finn. He heard another thump and a scream as the same treatment was given to Bedelia.

  With a smirk back at him, Oighear began to sway toward Finn on foot. As Iseult watched, she extended her arms, dropping her white coat to the ground. Snow fell all around her, blending her into the scenery. She lifted her palms skyward like she’d summon the entire sky down upon them, her dress glittering in the odd mixture of sun and snow.

  The ice increased, swirling around Finn while a white horse pranced back and forth behind her, clearly distressed

  “Finn!” Iseult shouted again, only to get a boot to the side of his face, grinding his cheek into the dirt painfully. He grunted in agony as his vision went momentarily dark, but he refused to lose consciousness.

  Slowly, his sight returned through the pain. The snow around Finn left her barely visible. She was still unmoving, clutching the shroud in both hands. Oighear was going to freeze her to death while she just stood there, deep in some sort of trance.

  He struggled against his chains and captors as Oighear reached out her pale hand and placed it on the shroud, still in Finn’s grasp. She began to tug, but Finn’s hands gripped the fabric tightly. If Oighear managed to claim the shroud, it would all be over. Her magic was already the most frightening he had ever seen. With the extra power of the shroud, no one would be able to defeat her.

  “Finn!” a voice called, drawing Iseult’s limited gaze. A rider galloped toward them from the snowy road, bow raised. The Aos Sí turned to observe the new threat as one, releasing the pressure on Iseult’s back. Half of the Aos Sí rushed toward the rider, but would be too late. Galloping at full speed, the rider let loose an arrow to slice through the air.

  Oighear turned a moment before it struck her chest. She looked down at it in shock, dropping her hand from the shroud. With a furious growl, she wrapped one pale hand around the arrow’s fletching and pulled, removing it from her chest with a gruesome spray of blood. Dropping the arrow to the ground, she reached for Finn.

  As the first half of the Aos Sí intercepted Kai, those remaining rushed toward their queen, abandoning Iseult and Bedelia where they lay. Now free of her captor, Naoki rolled on the ground, attempting to remove the tether from her wings.

  Iseult watched helplessly as Oighear renewed her grasp on the shroud, tugging hard despite her injuries. Her warriors neared her back cautiously, clearly unsure of what to do. Iseult’s heart gave a nervous skip as Finn blinked several times, then finally came back into reality. Noticing Oighear, rage sparkled in her dark eyes, an emotion he thought to never see on her normally innocent face.

  Maintaining her grip on the shroud with one hand, Finn held out the other. As one, the Aos Sí collapsed to the ground behind their queen, as if a giant hand had crushed them to the earth. Their bodies trembled as they struggled in vain to regain their footing, but could not. This time, neither roots, nor other forces of nature pinned the warriors, just sheer power. Iseult struggled to his feet, straining against the chains binding his arms to his body. Barely able to stand, he began to stumble toward the scene.

  Glancing back at her felled warriors, Oighear gave another hearty tug to the shroud in Finn’s grasp, but to no avail. She lifted her free arm skyward to mirror Finn. Hail suddenly pelleted the earth, pounding Iseult so powerfully he was forced back to the ground. Distantly he heard the Aos Sí detaining Kai cry out in pain. Somewhere behind him near Bedelia’s grunts of agony, Naoki shrieked through her bound beak.

  Flat on his chest, Iseult desperately wanted to stand and take action, but hammered with hail, he could not even lift his face to view the scene at hand.

  A shrill scream pierced the air from Finn’s direction. The hail suddenly stopped falling.

  His heart in his throat, Iseult rolled to his shoulder and opened his eyes, dreading what he might find. As his vision cleared, he slumped in temporary relief. Finn had summoned her roots from the earth to snake around Oighear and suspend her in the air. Her warriors stumbled to their feet, battered and bruised from the unnatural hail.

  Iseult forced himself to a seated position, but struggled to stand. All he could do was watch as the roots around Oighear became encased in ice. Oighear struggled, and all at once the roots shattered, dropping her to the ground on her side, tangled in her bloody gown. She unraveled herself and climbed to her feet, her angry eyes set on Finn.

  Finn watched her warily, her shoulders hunched in residual pain from the unnatural hail.

  Oighear staggered toward Finn. Her warriors watched on silently, awaiting their orders. Iseult could hardly breathe watching her snow white hand glide to her belt to withdraw a dagger.

  “It seems we are evenly matched,” Iseult heard her say, “and s
o, I will dispatch you through more mundane means.”

  Wet and shivering from the melting hail, Finn lifted the shroud in both hands. “Do not make me become who I once was,” she growled. “If you will not desist, I will trap your soul with all the others.”

  Oighear continued to stagger toward her.

  Iseult could barely force himself to watch. The last time Finn had stolen away someone’s soul, she’d become a tree for one hundred years. He could not bear to consider what might happen now.

  The Aos Sí warriors were utterly silent as Finn began to chant in a language unknown to Iseult, and he’d traveled enough to hear many. Oighear was only a few steps away, dagger raised desperately against Finn’s magic.

  “Hey Faie Queen!” someone called from the direction opposite the warriors.

  Iseult turned to the voice. It was Kai, beaten badly by the Aos Sí warriors and missing his bow. He cocked back his arm, launching a large stone to sail through the air. It connected with Oighear’s temple, just as she had turned to address the insolent disrupter.

  She dropped to the ground and did not move.

  Iseult finally managed to regain his feet and began stumbling forward once more through the remaining hail and snow, though his body was on the brink of collapse. Before he could reach the crumpled queen, Finn stepped toward her, eyes cast downward. He was just close enough to hear her shaky, breathless words.

  “My quarrel was not with you, Oighear the White. You should have stayed in your forest.”

  Oighear did not reply, and instead remained deathly still. Stepping away from the Faie Queen, Finn turned an angry glare to the waiting Aos Sí.

  “You’re queen is dead,” she announced. “I would advise against any further action.”

  As one, they dropped to their knees and bowed their heads to her.

  Kai jogged toward Finn the same moment as Naoki, her wings now free. Iseult felt sick as he made slow progress toward them. Finn seemed . . . different. Had she been changed by the shroud? Had she regained her memories, recalling her lost child? Would she now lash out at her friends as she had the Aos Sí? She’d come so close to stealing Oighear’s soul. If it weren’t for Kai, Iseult was not sure what would have happened.