Queen of Wands (The Tree of Ages Series Book 4)

by Sara C. Roethle

  Ealasaid knew without a doubt that she had to stop the Faie Queen before it was too late. If Oighear so chose, she could freeze them all where they stood.

  “No, Ealasaid,” Maarav urged, reading her expression. He moved to grab her arm, but she pulled away.

  “I can get you down there,” Keiren interrupted, her focus mostly on holding her wards in place, “but then you will be on your own.”

  “No!” Maarav shouted again.

  “Keep him here!” Ealasaid shouted as Keiren lowered one arm toward her.

  Before she could say any more, she was swept up on a current of air and carried over the wall, down to one of the snow-speckled roofs below. She landed gently on her feet beside Sage.

  He whirled on her, hands raised as if expecting an attacker, then slowly lowered them. “What are you doing!” he shouted over the clamor of the nearing battle. “Get back up there!” He gestured frantically to the guard tower.

  She shook her head. “If I do not return, you must keep the mages together. Do not allow An Solas to fall!”

  Before he could argue, she hurried toward the edge of the roof, ignoring Maarav’s shouts from above. She would simply have to trust Keiren would keep him from interfering, and hope that if they lost, he would escape safely.

  As Sage turned his attention back to the Aos Sí, she lowered herself from the roof.

  She dropped to the ground, bending her knees to absorb the impact of the fall. She was in an empty, snow-filled alleyway, but the fighting was so close, she knew she could run into the Aos Sí warriors at any moment. She had to reach the Faie Queen before that could happen.

  She took off at a run, praying her mages could hold the Aos Sí off for just a little while longer. Her breathing seemed deafeningly loud to her ears, drowning out the sounds of her boots crunching in the freshly fallen snow.

  If she couldn’t reach the Faie Queen, if she couldn’t stop her, all of the mages would die. Maarav would die. She knew it with utter certainty. They might stand a chance against the Aos Sí, but with Oighear’s added magic, all would perish.

  She skidded to a halt as two Aos Sí warriors darted into the alley ahead of her, cutting off her only clear path toward Oighear. Their strange, artistically curved armor was covered in frost, though they didn’t seem to feel the cold as she did. They eyed her for a moment, their glistening black hair whipping around in the icy wind beneath their helmets, then charged.

  She reacted instinctively, lashing out at them with her lightning. It surged around them in silver brilliance, so bright it nearly blinded her. She held up an arm to shield her face. Her lightning had never struck so powerfully before.

  Her heart thundering in her ears, she lowered her arm. Both Aos Sí lay in the snow, dead.

  “Impressive,” a female voice commented behind her.

  She whipped around to face the Faie Queen herself, fortunately without her lupine mount.

  Her glistening tresses, as pure white as her skin, were pulled back into elaborate braids, studded throughout with twinkling gems. Her pale skin seemed to sparkle in the snow, making her appear as an unearthly goddess.

  Truly, she was beautiful, and Ealasaid wanted nothing more than to destroy her before it was too late.

  Oighear began to prowl around Ealasaid in a wide circle, pacing through the snow like a predator.

  Ealasaid’s breath hitched as the direness of her situation hit her. Though she had planned on facing Oighear, she’d thought to do so on the battlefield where perhaps small advantages could be gained.

  Now that Oighear had found her, she would be facing the Faie Queen alone. She tried to summon her courage, but froze with fear. She was barely able to shift her feet, slowly spinning to keep Oighear in her sights.

  Oighear chuckled. “My, you’re just a child, aren’t you? To think, you were fated to be queen of these mortals. Fortunately, they will not need a queen once they’re dead.”

  “W-what do you want from us?” Ealasaid stammered, her teeth beginning to chatter from the cold.

  She clenched her stiff fingers into fists. She was such a fool. How had she ever thought she could face Oighear on her own? She should have at least brought Sage down from his perch on the roof. He was an incredibly powerful fire mage after all. Fire should go against snow, not lightning.

  Oighear clucked her tongue. “So disappointing,” she muttered. “I had hoped to face a true queen. A true Queen of Wands could have been excellent practice before my final battle with Finnur.”

  “Queen of Wands?” Ealasaid questioned through chattering teeth, hoping to buy herself time . . . but time for what? At least the snow in the distance had died down as soon as Oighear had become preoccupied.

  “The fated Queen of the Mages,” Oighear explained, completing another circle around Ealasaid. “You are she, are you not? The Queen of Wands?”

  Was she? She’d only just found out, unbelievably, that she was one of the prophesied queens. Perhaps it had all been a lie, and Keiren had planned to send her to her death all along.

  “Pity,” Oighear muttered, finishing another circle to stop a few paces in front of Ealasaid. She raised her arms out to her sides, draping her white fur cloak so that it appeared almost like wings.

  Ice formed in the air and swirled around Ealasaid. She wrapped her arms around herself as her teeth chattered more rapidly.

  Oighear raised a white eyebrow at her. “Will you not even put up a fight?” she questioned, then tsked. “I should have killed you sooner, right along with your parents.”

  Ealasaid gasped, all thoughts of her impending doom rushing from her mind. “What are you talking about? An Fiach killed my parents.”

  Oighear’s pale pink lips curled into a wicked smile. “Such weak minded fools. They prove eager pawns for any sorceress who might choose to use them. I’ve been hunting for you since I first awoke, but arrived at your village too late.” She shrugged. “I’ll admit, I was angry. Your family paid the price. An Fiach questioned and tortured them for information about you.”

  “You’re lying!” she shouted. She shook her head. No. Oighear was simply trying to make her suffer before slaying her. Or maybe not. How had she known about what happened to her village?

  Oighear’s smile broadened. “Am I lying? I ordered An Fiach to keep your mother alive. I tortured her in my dungeons for weeks, hoping her daughter would care enough to sense her mother’s distress and save her.”

  Hot tears streamed down Ealasaid’s face, turning icy cold by the time they reached her chin.

  “Liar!” she screamed, lashing out with her lightning.

  Oighear held up a hand, deflecting the bolt with a shimmering barrier of ice. “There we go,” she chimed happily. “There’s the fight I’m looking for. You know,” she began to pace, “your mother refused to breathe a word about you, even after weeks of pain. When I finally killed her, she muttered your name, lamenting the daughter who abandoned her.”

  Rage washed through her. Her body felt shredded into a thousand little pieces from the inside out. She screamed, lashing out again, only to have her lightning bolt deflected.

  No, no, no! her mind screamed. Frozen tears stung her face. She instinctively threw lightning bolts one after another with every ounce of power she possessed, and still reached for more. She would obliterate Oighear from the face of this retched land. Her body grasped for more power, and for a moment, there was nothing, then white hot energy was all around her. It rained down from the sky, and up from the earth. It poured in from everywhere.

  “Now we can have a proper battle!” Oighear snarled, her face distorted through the pure white light. She lifted her hands and launched a blast of ice shards at Ealasaid.

  Ealasaid sliced her hand through the air, deflecting them with something she could no longer call lightning. It was solid power.

  Oighear cackled gleefully, launching more ice at Ealasaid.

  She deflected the attack, then lashed out with one of her own, then another.

  Th
eir attacks increased until their surroundings were pure white with energy and snow. She felt her power hit up against Oighear’s, like she’d smacked into a solid wall.

  With another scream of rage she began to push, but Oighear pushed back. They warred against each other, evenly matched. Ealasaid could feel Oighear through the clash of white, could feel her triumph as her snow began to break through Ealasaid’s defenses.

  The glow of triumph faded in Oighear’s eyes when Ealasaid pushed back with a vengeance.

  Oighear renewed her efforts with vigor, but their powers continued to simply pulse between them.

  Feeling close to exhaustion, Ealasaid rallied what little strength was left in her to push harder, forcing herself past her limits. She could barely feel her body anymore, she was so consumed with the pure power.

  Oighear met her with equal force, and their magic collided in a radiant explosion, knocking Ealasaid from her feet. Her back hit the snow. She tried to sit up, but couldn’t move. Her vision sparkled with dazzling lights, then all at once, went black.

  Ealasaid was unsure how much time had passed when she finally regained consciousness. She felt herself lifted out of the melting snow into someone’s arms. Her first instinct was to lash out, but she was completely drained, unable to even flex her limbs.

  “She will be alright,” a woman’s voice explained, “but she’ll need to rest.”

  “What happened to her?” A man’s voice asked close to her ear. Suddenly she recognized the arms around her. Maarav was carrying her, and the woman’s voice was Keiren’s.

  In her head she was crying out in gratitude that they lived, but nothing came out of her mouth.

  “She faced Oighear the White and did not perish,” Keiren explained. “She has earned her birthright.”

  “I don’t care about birthrights,” Maarav muttered. “And know this, sorceress. If you ever stand in my way again while she’s in trouble, I will kill you.”

  Keiren snorted. “You will try.”

  That was the last thing Ealasaid heard before she drifted back into oblivion, lulled by the warm comfort of Maarav’s arms.

  Óengus cradled an unconscious Oighear in his arms, his back pressed against a nearby building. He barely breathed as he watched Keiren and Maarav carry Ealasaid away.

  Something like guilt caught in his throat. He’d been spying on Ealasaid as she gathered her mages, secretly reporting back to Oighear. He was the reason Oighear had come along with the Aos Sí. He’d convinced her that with Keiren at Ealasaid’s side, the mage threat was too great, and Oighear needed to act.

  It had all gone mostly according to plan. He’d spied for Keiren, assuring her Oighear would not be part of the battle. Oighear did not want to risk that they would run. Now, likely half the mages had been killed, and Keiren would be desperate for the upper hand, giving him more to work with, so why did he feel this horrible, wracking guilt?

  He looked down at the pale woman in his arms as Maarav and Keiren’s voices retreated. She had tortured that poor girl’s parents. He was not beyond killing, in fact, he’d often reveled in it. He even understood why Oighear had pushed Ealasaid to the extent that she did, wanting a proper challenge.

  Yet, when Ealasaid fought back, he found himself wishing she’d kill Oighear. He also found himself wishing he’d chosen a different queen to help with his problem from the start. Perhaps it was just human nature, wanting to side with his own kind rather than something Faie. Really, it should not matter. Once his shadow was returned, he’d have no issue meeting his death soon after. Yet, the thought lingered in his mind that he could have spoken with Ealasaid back in Port Ainfean instead of sending his men after Finn . . . only he hadn’t known who she was at the time.

  He sighed as he began to walk through the snow with Oighear in his arms. He needed to catch up to the retreating Aos Sí, surely panicked that perhaps their queen had fallen. He shook his head. Here he was, rescuing Oighear from death, yet a second time. Still, he could not help reviewing his choices.

  Yes, he would have liked to ask Ealasaid for help, but she seemed a good person, and would not want to help a bad one. Just as Finn would never want to help him with how he’d hunted her. The only choices left to him were Oighear or Keiren. Two women whose hearts had been twisted nearly as much as his.

  No, he’d chosen his path, the only one he really could.

  Maarav rested in the overstuffed chair, hanging his head in his hands. He’d carried Ealasaid back to her room at the estate. Her body had been icy cold, lying there in the trampled snow. Her skin was so pale, he’d feared she was dead, or would be soon. He’d removed the wet outer layers of her clothing, sliding a loose, dry dress over her damp underpinnings, then had wrapped her up in layers of blankets and built a fire. After several hours of sleep, her skin had regained color.

  He shook his head. Foolish girl. She’d made him promise to remain by her side, then had broken that promise before he’d even had a chance to keep it.

  Yet, even as he watched her, waiting for her to wake, he dreaded the moment she would. The news would devastate her.

  An Solas had survived, but just barely. Many had perished, including Ouve. Without Keiren’s shields, Maarav had no doubt they all would have died, even after Ealasaid drew the Snow Queen’s attention.

  The Aos Sí were like nothing he’d had ever seen, unbelievably graceful and quick . . . and difficult to kill. Their strange armor seemed to reflect a measure of the magic hurled at them, and it left few openings for arrows and swords. Their onslaught had proven too much for Keiren’s wards, and she’d only been able to protect those nearest to her, including Maarav . . . though he’d tried his hardest to escape her.

  He sighed. Perhaps if he’d been thinking more clearly, he would have relented on trying to escape. He could have instead used that energy to protect those who Ealasaid held most dear.

  He lifted his head and looked down at her pale face, framed by blonde curls crimped awkwardly from the braid she’d worn. He sighed harshly. There had been no other choice. He’d been utterly incapable of waiting idly by while she rushed off to face the mighty Faie Queen.

  Truly, the girl had ruined him. He’d always been a pragmatist at heart, and nothing Ealasaid did was practical.

  Still, she’d faced the Faie Queen and lived. He had no doubt the confrontation was the reason for the Aos Sí’s retreat. A retreat that saved all of their lives.

  She groaned, prompting him to hop to his feet. He hovered over her, waiting for another sign of life.

  Her eyes fluttered open. She squinted up at him, bleary eyed. “Maarav?” she questioned weakly. “How did I get here?”

  “We found you freezing in the snow,” he explained softly, taking a seat on the edge of her bed. “You’re back within the estate.”

  She frowned. “Did we win?”

  He fought to hide his cringe. “Many have died, but I think we are safe . . . for now. Whatever you did caused the Faie Queen’s retreat. She was not there when we found you.”

  She lifted a hand to rub her eyes, then let it drop back to the bed. “Help me sit up, please.”

  He did as she asked, propping her up with pillows before resuming his seat.

  She wiped at her eyes again, then trailed her hand tiredly down her face. “I’m the reason my family was killed,” she explained. “Oighear was searching for me. She tortured them to learn my whereabouts.”

  “She told you this?” he questioned.

  She nodded, then cringed like the movement hurt her. “I was so afraid when I faced her. I froze, but she wanted a fight. She told me what she did to them, what she did to my mother. It’s all my fault. If I’d been less of a coward, I would have stayed to protect them.”

  “You left to protect them,” he corrected.

  She shook her head. “What happened while I faced Oighear?”

  He averted his gaze. Did she really need to know?

  “Maarav,” she pressed.

  He met her tired gray eyes. “N
ot long after you left, the snow abated, but the Aos Sí did not relent. They made it into the estate and wore down Keiren’s wards . . . ” he trailed off. “She could not protect everyone.”

  She sunk down into her pillows. “How many?”

  “How many what?” he questioned, though he knew exactly what she was asking.

  She stared him down. “How many dead?”

  He considered lying to her, but she’d learn the truth soon enough. There was no way he could keep it from her. “Over half,” he replied.

  Her mouth sealed into a tight line. He watched as she took several deep breaths, then asked, “How much over half?”

  “Ealasaid,” he said softly.

  “Tell me,” she demanded.

  “Two thirds at least,” he sighed, foreign emotions welling up within him. Loss. Regret. Guilt. “Many of Slàine’s assassins fell along with the mages.” He met her gaze. “Ouve is dead too.” He regretted it as soon as he said it.

  Her breath hissed out. She shook her head. “We should never have come here. Creating An Solas was a fool’s errand. I gathered them all to die.”

  Maarav shook his head. “They would have died on their own, one by one. At least this way they were able to fight for themselves. Many are still willing to fight.”

  “No,” she snapped, her eyes suddenly fierce. “I cannot do this any longer. We must send them all away. They must return to hiding what they are.”

  As soon as she’d spoken the door burst open. Maarav hopped to his feet. He was just about to release a dagger from his hand when he recognized the intruders.

  Sage stumbled into the room, his dark hair still matted with sweat and blood. He’d been out since the battle ended, searching the dead for any who might still have life in them. Beside him stood another mage, an older woman whose name Maarav did not know.