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 moved 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.