The Mad Queen (The Fae War Chronicles Book 5)

by Jocelyn Fox

  When Ariel reached the bottom of the steps, he launched into a sprint.

  “This is going to suck,” muttered Tess, gathering herself as she neared the last step. Her legs felt heavy as she stretched into a headlong run. She knew that she’d settle into the pace after she pushed past the first few minutes of acute discomfort. A cold wind whipped down the eerily empty thoroughfare and then a dark ball of writhing energy sailed overhead, its crackling aura brushing past them like the whisper of a knife’s edge on bare flesh, cold and sharp. It landed somewhere over to their right, not hitting the cathedral but detonating with a thunderous explosion just outside. Tess only thought to throw her own shield up when she saw fleet-footed Ariel pause to crouch nimbly behind his shield. She twisted awkwardly and barely aimed the shield in the right direction when the shock wave hit them, bringing with it dust and, after a moment, pelting rocks falling from above. The force of the blast effect – her mind supplied the words, she must have heard them from Liam – hit her shield. It vibrated against her arm and she felt her feet skid slightly on the hard-packed dirt of the causeway, but she knew that the gentle push, would have been a savage blow that knocked her from her feet if the shield hadn’t dampened it. As rocks rained down, some the size of her fist, the dome of protection shimmered into existence as it deflected the debris. Strange silence wrapped around her, making her breathing sound loud and harsh. She slowed her panting and tried to use the time to recover a bit before Ariel set off on his mad dash again.

  Tess waited until large rocks had stopped hitting the dome. She straightened slowly, blinking as she surveyed the landscape, rendered ghostly by white dust hanging in the air. Ariel and Sage stood as well. All three of them stood in perfect circles clear of rocks, a border of rubble ringing them, the edges as sharp as though they’d stood in bell jars.

  Ariel shook some dust from his shield. “Handy, this.”

  And with that, he picked his way through the debris, gaining speed until he leapt between navigable spaces like a sure-footed mountain goat. Tess gritted her teeth and hopped her way through the worst of it, Sage right behind her. She poured on speed and tried to gain on Ariel as they cleared the radius of the explosion, but the Seelie fighter was nearly a quarter mile ahead of them. She saw him glance over his shoulder and slow enough for her to catch up, and she was sure that Sage was keeping watch at the rear of their small formation.

  But such was life. Getting angry over being the slowest of the three of them wasn’t going to do anyone any good. The Sword vibrated in its sheath approvingly as she strained to go faster. She wouldn’t spend energy getting angry, she’d spend that energy trying to right the problem.

  They took cover behind their shields for one other blast, but it seemed as though Mab’s targeting was getting more accurate, more of the sparking black globes sailing at a high trajectory to impact near the cathedral. Tess’s chest tightened with anger. She poured it into her legs, her muscles beginning to ache as they twisted and turned, passing two smoldering impact sites. They rounded the final turn to the practice yards and stopped short, their path blocked by a collapsed building. Huge columns lay broken across the causeway, their smoothly carved stone shattered into jagged edges and pulverized into dust. Tess sucked in a few breaths and tried not to cough as Ariel stalked the length of the piled debris.

  “Can we backtrack?” she asked, her voice hoarse.

  Ariel growled a curse, his boyish face alight with rage. “We could, but that will take too long.” He glanced at Tess, consideration in his eyes. “Can you clear it?”

  Tess snorted, her automatic reaction disbelief. The wreckage stood at least twice as tall as her, maybe more, huge columns that had stood two stories high and blocks of stone that weighed as much as a man. Then the Caedbranr’s power surged in her chest like an eager dog against its leash, making her gasp.

  “We could climb it,” offered Sage, looking at the pile in calculation.

  “Unstable,” said Ariel, shaking his head. “We’re no good to anyone if we crush ourselves.”

  As if to underscore his point, a stone shifted, sending a spurt of dust into the air and causing them all to take a few steps backward. The Caedbranr’s power swelled again impatiently, bodily jerking Tess toward the debris.

  “All right,” she gasped. She turned to the two Seelie men. “Get back and take shelter behind your shields. They should help protect you against the Sword’s power.”

  Ariel and Sage glanced at each other and then obeyed her directions, putting a fair distance between them and setting the edge of their shields against the ground. When Tess was sure they were ready, she reached out to the Sword, her mind querying.

  How exactly are we going to do this? she asked the weapon silently. She conjured an image of fiery tendrils gripping pieces of debris like tentacles, pulling them into the air and then stacking them to the side.

  Nothing so tedious as that, replied the Sword, its androgynous voice tight with anticipation. It sent her a vision of a tidal wave of power, much like what she’d used in her very first battle as its Bearer.

  Tess didn’t completely understand how that wave of power would deal with the mountain of broken stone before her, but she followed its direction, hoping that the shields would protect Ariel and Sage as she reached over her shoulder with her right hand and grasped the hilt of the Sword, letting her shield fall from her grip. As she drew the Caedbranr from its battered sheath, her war markings blazed and Gwyneth’s pendant heated at her throat. She brought her left hand up to grip the Sword as well, its power and her own taebramh roaring through her, rearing up like a massive wave, roiling and formidable as she held the Sword overhead.

  Now, the Caedbranr commanded, and she brought it sweeping down, striking the hard-packed earth with the point of the blade. The crashing tide of power knocked her to her knees. She clung doggedly to the Sword as the wave buffeted her physically. It hurtled down onto the broken columns and stone blocks, sweeping the massive pieces aside as if they were merely sticks and pebbles caught in a mighty river’s current. She regained her feet as she felt the flood of power halt the advance of the heavy columns, tucking each piece into a stable position on the side of the causeway and leaving a clear path down the center. The Sword checked its work, and then the fire coalesced into a brilliant rope and sped back toward Tess, stopping short of hurtling into her. The fire melted into a little pool, wavelets lapping at her boots, and the Sword reabsorbed it. She staggered a little as her war-markings blazed again, and then it was done.

  The Sword gleamed dull gray in the musty light and the emerald in its pommel winked at her. Its power curled in her chest, dripping self-satisfaction.

  Thanks, she said as she slid the Caedbranr back into its sheath. It gave the equivalent of a yawn. She picked up her shield and turned to Sage and Ariel.

  “I stand corrected. That is handy,” Ariel said, his words tinged with appreciative awe as he loped toward her. Sage clasped her shoulder with a nod, his way of telling her well done. They all stiffened. Without the wall of white stone and after the dull roar of the Sword’s power, the sounds from the practice yard drifted through the air, wrenching Tess back to the battlefield. All three of them leaned forward into a run.

  Three sentries ranged abreast raised swords until Ariel called out their names and they slowed to identify themselves. Tess couldn’t recognize any of the fighters’ faces beneath the masks of white dust and dark blood.

  “We can use all the help we can get,” said one sentry fervently, clasping Ariel’s arm in a gesture of brotherhood. He motioned toward the practice yards.

  Or what had once been the practice yards. Tess felt her insides freeze in horror as she took in the total destruction: piles of debris everywhere, huge stones randomly thrown onto the ground, patches of blood-soaked earth and weapons strewn where they’d been tossed by the blast.

  “Where are the healers?” Sage asked one of the sentries.

  “The Arrisyn is just inside the yard, directing ever
ything,” said another sentry. Tess started at the female voice. She hadn’t even been able to tell the fighter was a woman beneath the caked filth. And then relief rushed through her. If Merrick was “just inside, directing everything,” then he couldn’t be too badly hurt. Who else had Sage said? She tried to remember and couldn’t, her legs starting to tremble from both the rush of the Sword’s power and the headlong run through the city.

  “If there’s a ground attack, sound the alarm,” she said to the sentries, even as she realized that they’d probably already received exactly those instructions. Her voice hardened. “I’d really like to take out whatever Mab decides to send next.”

  The female sentry cocked her head to one side and then her eyes widened, her white-coated eyebrows rising almost to her hairline. “Lady Bearer. Thank you for coming.”

  The thanks were heartfelt, and Tess nodded, feeling slightly foolish. She realized that she was almost as swathed in dust as the sentries and probably just as unrecognizable.

  “Keep the watch,” Sage said formally, using a farewell often heard between those on duty and those passing through.

  “Steadfast and true,” replied one of the sentries, turning back to the empty, dust-shrouded path.

  Tess’s stomach tightened as the cries of the wounded rose around her. Sage quickly found the area cleared of large debris that they were using as a triage ward. Ariel dove into the rescue efforts, disappearing amid a throng of fighters working to move the great stones of a collapsed wall.

  “Tess!”

  She turned at Merrick’s voice. A man covered in pale dust, a streak of dark blood striping one side of his face and more blood soaking his tunic and trousers, moved toward her. As he closed the distance, she picked out his features and reassured herself that this gore-encrusted specter was really Merrick. She resisted the urge to throw her arms around him and then systematically check him for injury.

  “You look terrible,” she said in greeting.

  “So do you,” he replied with a grin. Even his teeth were stained with blood and gritty with dust.

  She found herself grinning back. A distant explosion caused them both to duck reflexively.

  “Calliea and the Valkyrie went after the weapons,” said Merrick. “I think they’re using trebuchets.”

  “They’re ranging in, probably with someone who’s scrying,” said Tess. “Could you…” She let her question die into silence as Merrick pulled his scrying stone from his belt pouch, the case mangled and torn. Her heart squeezed as he slid the delicate instrument out and showed Tess the cracked glass.

  “Oh, Merrick,” she said sadly. That scrying stone had traveled with them across Faeortalam from Darkhill to Brightvale and survived a dragon hunt, not to mention the final battle in the Dark Keep.

  “It’s replaceable,” he said, though she could hear a strain of regret in his voice. Then his face hardened. “Unlike those who were killed.”

  “How can I help?” she said quickly. “That should have been my first question.”

  “We have a lot of hands here now,” said Merrick. He put the ruined scrying stone back into its destroyed case. “We’re working as fast as we can on the collapsed wall. Thankfully Thea wasn’t in her forge. That was completely destroyed.”

  “Chael wasn’t there either?” Tess asked.

  “Chael hasn’t been to the forge for weeks,” replied Merrick grimly.

  “Well, that answers that question then,” said Tess. She turned and forced herself to survey the rubble, some of the rocks stained with dark blood. It looked like most of the Sidhe who had been trapped beneath the collapsed wall had been freed, but rescuers still worked on a section with focused intent. Tess nodded to Merrick and strode over, each footstep raising a small cloud of dust.

  One of the rescuers looked distinctly different than the Sidhe around him, broader shoulders and more muscular arms, hints of camouflage pattern and bright ink on his skin showing through the grime and gore.

  “Quinn,” called Tess. Another spark of relief loosened the knot of anxiety in her chest. She still didn’t know who’d survived and who had died, and she felt guilty at every small surge of happiness when she found another of her friends alive.

  “Tess,” he said hoarsely, pausing to wipe his hands on his pants – both were too filthy for it to make a difference. She winced as he ran one hand through his shaggy hair. A copper stain, wet and red at the center, marked one side of his chest, but he didn’t seem concerned. “Any chance you can work some mojo on these rocks? We think there’s two, maybe three trapped beneath it.”

  Tess pushed aside her worry for him. If he was still on his feet and able to help move the huge chunks of rock, he had to be okay, even if his definition of the word didn’t match hers. She took a deep breath and reached for the Caedbranr. If the Sword was willing to contribute its power to clear an obstacle in the path, it would surely understand the necessity of helping to rescue the trapped Vyldgard fighters. “Have everyone step back. You won’t be affected by the Sword, so you can stand by me and make sure that no one gets too close.”

  “It won’t affect the Sidhe in there?” he asked, a crease appearing between his dust-coated eyebrows.

  She shook her head. “No. The objects of the Sword’s attention are treated differently. It’s blowback and peripheral damage that concern me.”

  “I’ll just…pretend I understood that,” said Quinn. He stepped into action. “All right, clear the area, everyone back! The Bearer is going to take care of it!” His authoritative voice boomed through the courtyard. The other rescuers paused, looked over and saw that the Bearer actually stood beside Quinn, and climbed down from their posts on the rubble pile.

  Tess felt the Sword’s power sizzle down her war markings as she gripped its hilt. Easy, now, she warned it, we need to be delicate with this one.

  She felt the Sword shudder in assent as she drew it from its sheath. Emerald fire coursed down its length, dripping onto the hard-packed earth. Tess braced herself and touched the tip of the Sword to one of the stones at the bottom of the pile. Skeins of power slid beneath the rocks. She felt them questing, searching, until they found one still body. Her heart sank as one tendril of fire wrapped the Sidhe warrior in a delicate cocoon of power. Another tentacle touched a second body, rearing back in surprise when the trapped fighter shifted and gasped.

  “Quickly,” gritted out Tess. As if from a distance she felt Quinn place a steadying hand on her arm. She had no attention to spare for her body; she needed to protect any survivors before this tenuously balanced pile of debris collapsed.

  In response to her thoughts of collapse, the Caedbranr sent roots burrowing into the earth and branches weaving up through the rocks, holding the largest pieces in place as Tess quickly wove a protective shell around the survivor. At the edge of her senses, she felt the other tendrils spreading through the pile. Another body, cool and still. The rocks shifted, rumbling ominously, plumes of dust spouting into the air as a few smaller pieces not supported by the Caedbranr’s glowing emerald net pattered down the sides of the hulking pile.

  “Faster,” Tess whispered. She vaguely recognized the roaring in her ears, but she pushed it aside.

  At her urging, the fiery vines grew at twice the speed, snaking through crevices and curling around massive pieces of broken stone, questing and searching. Tess made a strangled sound of triumph as they found two more survivors who from the positioning of their bodies had both tried to shelter each other. With a growl, Tess pushed some of her own taebramh into the pile to help weave the shelter around the pair. The Sword wasn’t working fast enough. The Caedbranr vibrated in her hands, in agreement or protest, she wasn’t sure.

  The tendrils finished searching the rest of the pile. Now was the true test. Tess let out the breath she’d been holding, sucked in a new one, tensed her body and lifted. She heard a few gasps and murmurs behind her as stones began rising from the pile, faster and faster. She left them hovering in the air because she realized she hadn�
��t staked out a safe place to set them down. She’d slide out the survivors first, then the bodies, and let it all down again.

  Holding the massive stones in the air was surprisingly easy. Perhaps the Caedbranr took most of that load. Nevertheless, Tess felt her arms begin to shake as she slid the first survivor out of the wreckage, his cocoon glowing silver and emerald. Her heart began to pound and sweat broke out on her brow. The pair next. She shifted her focus to that side of the debris, the stones flying up into the air with dizzying speed, a puzzle solved in reverse. The pair were buried deep, but she reached them. With her free hand, she gestured, trying to be gentle as she pulled the ropes of power attached to them, setting them down next to the other survivor.

  When she reached the bodies, she didn’t have the finesse to be gentle, but they couldn’t feel it if she hit their head on a rock or bent one of their limbs too far. She grimly set the first corpse down a small distance away from the survivors. Sage and another healer already worked on the ones she’d pulled out that were still alive. Her legs shook as she grasped for the other body, wrenching it from within the rocks with nearly the whole pile of debris levitating. Blackness pressed in on the edges of her vision, vying with the white fire. Gwyneth’s pendant heated sharply at her throat, its warmth biting into the tender skin. Tess lost control of the ropes of power and lost her grip on the Sword. The rocks crashed down with an ear-splitting roar. Someone swept her up and sheltered her, holding her like a child in his arms while he crouched over her. She wanted to tell him that he didn’t have to worry. The Caedbranr had thrown up a hasty shield to protect them against any flying shards of rock.

  She pushed at Quinn’s chest with both hands, coughing. “Can’t breathe.”

  He stood and set her on her feet, keeping his grip on her arms as she coughed and swayed. Black spots darted in front of her. She focused on taking deep breaths and they receded. She stood, nodded to Quinn, and he let go of her. When she bent to pick up the Sword, she saw the bright red blood on her palms, not from any injury of her own. She glanced sharply at Quinn, immediately regretting the quick movement as her head swam.