The Oaken Throne

by Sara C. Roethle

  He was glad for now, at least, that they camped alone, though many of the Faie milled around in the surrounding forest. The Cavari who’d accompanied them spoke little, and seemed to have no need for sleep, unlike Finn, who seemed the most human amongst them. Human and frail. The more powerful she grew, the more her physical form seemed to be wilting away.

  “She seems so sweet when she’s sleeping,” a voice said from behind him.

  He tensed, not having sensed anyone approaching. It was rare that someone could actually sneak up on him. He turned his glare to observe Sugn, his golden hair seeming to glow with the flickering firelight.

  Uninvited, Sugn stepped forward, then sat on the fallen log beside Iseult.

  “What do you want?” Iseult asked, unable to hide the venom in his tone.

  Sugn’s gaze was on Finn as he answered, “I want assurances. Finnur marches us to war, but to what end? Are we to fight for insignificant little mages and other mortals now?” He turned to look Iseult up and down. “No offense meant, mortal.”

  While Sugn had clearly meant to offend, Iseult had forsaken the notion of prideful vanity long ago. “She is your queen,” he said evenly, keeping his voice low. “You would dare question her?”

  Sugn sneered, turning his handsome face ugly. “She was born under the needed alignment of stars, that is all. If she were to truly die, another would replace her.”

  His blood boiled at Sugn’s words. He debated killing the man right then and there. He forced his heartbeat to slow. “And you believe that someone might be you?”

  Sugn smirked. “Now you’re catching on.” He flicked his gaze once again to Finn’s sleeping form, then back to Iseult. “Although, I’d be happy to follow a queen who adhered to the wishes of her people. I’d imagine someone who cared deeply for her would lead her in that direction, if only to ensure her continued health.”

  Rage washed through him once again. He would protect Finn with his life, and he wanted to kill Sugn right there, but something stopped him. He was not a foolish man, and he knew when an adversary could not easily be slain. He would not be able to do it on his own.

  “I’ll think upon your words,” he forced himself to say. He needed time. Time to reach the others. Time to plan. Finn would never abide the Cavari’s wishes, so it would be her or them.

  Sugn stood. “I see you’re a wiser man than I’d originally thought. See that you do not think for too long.” With that, he walked away, fading into the darkness.

  Iseult peered down at Finn’s sleeping form, curled up by the fire.

  She groaned in her sleep, clearly slipping into another nightmare, though he was reluctant to wake her. It was rare that she slept long at all, and he needed time to process his conversation with Sugn, and to figure out how to approach her with the newly garnered information.

  He found himself wishing for Kai, despite any jealousies he might harbor toward him and his relationship with Finn. Kai always knew what to say to her. Out of everyone, he was the one who’d truly become her friend.

  Iseult would have liked the role, but he’d never been good at friendship. He’d been on his mission for too long. Instead of resolving it, things had only become more complicated, making him perhaps less agreeable than he’d ever been before.

  His thoughts dark, he gazed down at Finn, clenching and unclenching her fists in the fabric of her bedroll. Though he’d met her what seemed like ages ago, he knew their journey had only just begun.

  Chapter Eight

  Ealasaid’s heart raced. Keiren had not emerged from her chamber since their meeting, so she’d not bothered telling her what would occur that night. After Maarav’s revelations, she would not have wanted to tell her either way. She’d known Keiren likely had ulterior motives, but to realize she’d never cared about the mages from the start . . . she shook her head, glancing first at Kai on her left, then Maarav on her right as the trio made their way through the gardens to the place Slàine had chosen for her to swear her oath. She had decided to wed Maarav in the same location. It was, after all, where he’d proposed.

  Kai followed their lead as they made their way through the decorative hedges toward their destination, the massive stone centerpiece bearing the names of those who’d fallen under Ealasaid’s command. While seeing the names made her heart hurt, it also reminded her just what they were fighting for. It reminded her that there were still good, brave people in the world.

  As they approached the stone centerpiece, she eyed Slàine and two female assassins waiting there. The trio were clad in their usual black, without their face-obscuring cowls.

  Kai hesitated as he saw them, but Ealasaid nodded to him that it was alright.

  Slàine stepped forward, placing herself in front of the memorial stone. “Tonight we welcome a new sister into our order, both through solemn vows and marriage.”

  Ealasaid looked to Maarav, smiling. He might be overly pragmatic, greedy, and a seasoned killer, but the only important thing to her in that moment was that he was hers . . . and that he no longer killed for coin.

  “I assume this man stands witness?” Slàine questioned, nodding toward Kai.

  Ealasaid turned to see he’d backed away toward the hedges, but was still close enough to be part of the gathering. She noted a slight reflection in his eyes, and once again wondered just what was happening to him. It would have to be discussed later though.

  “Yes,” Maarav answered when Ealasaid failed to speak.

  His voice was steady and confident, and she wondered if he was somehow not as nervous as she was.

  “Then let us begin,” Slàine said, holding a hand out to one of the woman standing off to her right.

  The woman stepped forward and handed Slàine a large leather-bound book, then retreated to stand by her assassin sister.

  Slàine opened the book, then began reciting the words which Ealasaid suspected she had memorized, given she only had the light of the moon to see by.

  “Tonight, Ealasaid Ó Corraidhín joins us in a solemn oath as old as the barrows of the Faie. She will pledge her life to her brothers and sisters in arms and blood, to carry our secrets to the grave. We are the executioners of fate, let no man stand in our way. The punishment for breaking our solemn oath is death. Do you swear your life to us?”

  Slàine looked up from her book toward Ealasaid.

  Maarav took her hand and gave it a squeeze. “You just have to say yes,” he whispered.

  She really didn’t like the idea of swearing her life to Slàine, but she supposed she’d already sworn her life to others ten times over when she first took charge of An Solas.

  She cleared her throat. “I do.”

  Slàine extended the book to the woman who’d originally offered it, then from the other woman took a silver dagger. The blade gleamed in the moonlight, the hilt glittering with pure black and red jewels.

  Turning back toward Ealasaid, Slàine held out her free hand. “In blood, our oath will be sealed.”

  Maarav cringed, then glanced down at her. “My apologies, I forgot about that part.”

  Ealasaid sighed, then extended her hand palm up, guessing at what Slàine might want.

  Slàine cupped her free hand under Ealasaid’s, then drew her dagger across her palm.

  Ealasaid’s breath hissed out at the sharp sting, then blood welled in her cupped hand. She thought Slàine might cut her hand as well, but instead laid the flat edge of the dagger across the pool of Ealasaid’s blood. She watched in awe as the dagger seemed to absorb the blood.

  “It’s magic,” she breathed.

  “Many relics still hold power,” Slàine explained. “We are not superior fighters through skill alone. Our vows give us strength. This is the secret you must never speak.” Her eyes darted to Kai, waiting quietly a few paces back from the group. She addressed him firmly, “As witness, you are bound by our laws. Betray the trust Ealasaid has granted you, and you shall know the full fury of our order.”

  Ealasaid watched as Kai raised his hand
s in surrender. “Trust me, I’ll be blocking this out of my mind as soon as possible.”

  Slàine smirked, then turned back to Ealasaid.

  Ealasaid gasped as she glanced the slice on her palm. The dagger had absorbed all traces of blood, leaving behind a clean cut. Slàine sheathed the dagger at her belt as if it were something entirely ordinary.

  “Now on to the next ceremony,” she announced. “It would honor me if you’d allow me to oversee this most sacred rite as well.”

  Maarav laughed. “Well I don’t know who else is going to do it.”

  Ealasaid scowled at him, but it soon turned into a smile. Slàine might not be her first choice of a person to wed her to Maarav, but she was basically his mother, and she liked the idea that family would be involved.

  Slàine looked again to Kai. “We’ll need your participation for this part.” Then she turned to the two women. “You may go.”

  The women both nodded, then slunk off silently as Kai moved to Maarav’s side.

  Slàine mirrored him, standing next to Ealasaid. She lowered her hands to her waist, unfastening a braided leather cord.

  Ealasaid turned to Maarav and held out her hand, the cut stinging as the cool night air hit it.

  Facing her, he took her left hand in his right, gripping it firmly.

  Without a word, Slàine began winding the leather cord around their wrists, binding them together. When she’d wrapped it several times, she stepped back, offering Kai the loose ends. He silently tied them in a loose knot, beginning a ritual as old as time itself.

  Ealasaid met Maarav’s gaze, twinkling in the moonlight. She was well aware that he was the only person alive that truly watched out for her, and had her best interests at heart, and she did the same for him.

  Really, she could not have asked for anything more.

  Óengus eyed Oighear sitting at the head of a large wood table, her face buried in her pure white palms. A twinkling crown, encrusted with tiny white crystals, and a raw blue stone at the crest, bedecked her shimmering tresses. While she often wore jewels, he’d never seen her wear this one before.

  “I’ve not heard further word from the sorceress,” he explained, still observing her from afar. “An alliance might not be possible.”

  Oighear lifted her head from her hands. “So be it,” she sighed. “We go to war, for better or for worse.”

  She seemed in such a morose mood, he was hesitant to speak. Yet, he could not allow her to die in battle without first fulfilling his wish.

  “And what of my shadow?” he asked softly.

  She blinked at him. “Ah, yes, I’d nearly forgotten.” She sighed. “Your shadow will be returned upon the death of the one who stole it from you. It is by the magic of the caster that you remain separated from your own magic.”

  He furrowed his brows. “It is not magic.”

  “Think what you wish, Gray Lord,” she said tiredly. “But I assure you, your shadow is the magic of the in-between. It is the magic I desire above all else. Why else would I have kept you alive for so long?”

  He took a step forward. “You mean to tell me you actually wish for my shadow to be returned?”

  She sighed, placing her head back in her hands. “Truly, I do not really care anymore. If you were to regain your shadow now, you would be of little use at this late hour.”

  He blinked at her, wondering about her attitude. Did she truly think herself entirely doomed? She had been utterly confident before facing Ealasaid.

  Desperation emboldened him. He took another step forward, then pulled out a seat at the table, directly across from her. “What have you learned that has defeated you?”

  She lifted wide eyes to him. “You would dare speak to me in such a tone?”

  He tilted his head. “If you wish to be spoken to like a queen, you should act like one.”

  Her eyes widened further. He knew he was risking life and limb in antagonizing her, but he saw no other choice. He needed her help.

  To his surprise, she sighed, then produced a slip of paper in her hand, as if by magic. Slowly, she set it down and pushed it across the table.

  Óengus fought to hide his anticipation as he retrieved the paper and lifted it from the table. It read:

  You have broken the treaty. Consider this your cordial invitation to the battle at Garenoch. Come, so that your people might perish with dignity.

  Frowning, he set the paper back on the table. “What does it mean?”

  “It means,” she said tiredly, “that the Cavari believe they will return to their full power, if they have not already. It means that Finnur will be their queen in truth. They travel toward Garenoch, whether to take the burgh, or ally themselves with the human queen, it does not matter. Together with Finnur and my mother’s shroud, they will be unstoppable. May the gods have mercy on any who would dare stand in their way.”

  “And what of this treaty?” he pressed.

  She placed her head back in her hands. “Centuries ago, they tricked me. I wanted only to save my people, so I agreed to limit my magic. Little did I know they would use the agreement to force me into my long slumber. Because of that, my brave Aos Sí faded away. All but the lesser Faie became a thing of myth.”

  “That was what ended the Faie War?” he balked.

  She nodded. “The lesser Faie live off the magic of the land, but greater beings must have a source of power.”

  “But why?” he questioned. “Why would the Cavari care to limit you?”

  “They seek only power,” she muttered. “And they shall have it. None will stand against them at their full strength, with their queen wearing my mother’s shroud.”

  He stared at her for a long while, committing everything she’d said to memory. He now knew a history most would never comprehend.

  Eventually, she lifted her gaze once more. “Was there something else, Gray Lord?”

  “Yes,” he answered, meeting her glittering eyes. “I want you to rally your warriors to fight.”

  She glared at him, but with little malice. She simply seemed . . . tired. “To what end? Without my mother’s shroud, or an ally like the Queen of Wands, I cannot defeat Finnur, not now that she has claimed her true title, and stolen away so many of my Faie.”

  “You prepare yourself,” he advised, rising from his seat, “and I will fetch your shroud.”

  “Oh?” she questioned, her tone clearly mocking. “And what would you hope to gain? Do not tell me you have fallen in love with me.”

  Ignoring her comments, he smiled. “All I ask in return is that when the time comes, you kill the sorceress. Kill Keiren Deasmhumhain, and return my shadow.”

  She stared at him for several seconds, calculating, then a small smile crossed her lips, letting him know he’d finally gained her interest. “And how do you intend to steal away the shroud, when not even I could do so?”

  He straightened his winter cloak and the sword at his hip, fully prepared to leave right that moment. “You struck at Finnur’s physical form, but that is not the way to beat her. To defeat someone like her, you must strike at the heart. She cares deeply for her friends.”

  Oighear tilted her head. “Use her beloved mortals against her?”

  He nodded.

  Her smile widened. “You will take my leon gheimhridh. She is far faster than any horse.”

  Óengus shivered at the thought of the creature, a massive white cat, big enough for riding, but he would not refuse it. He needed to reach Finn while there were still humans nearby to be used against her. If there was anything he’d learned in his time spent watching the tree girl, it was that she was loyal to a fault, and while Óengus respected such qualities, he would also gladly use them to his advantage.

  Once the ceremony was finished, Ealasaid, Maarav, and Kai retreated to the shelter of Ealasaid’s chamber. She would have preferred to go to bed with her husband, but the duties of a queen never ended. With her growing suspicions about Keiren’s true plans, she wanted to meet with Finn before Keiren found out
. If she found out. Keiren usually made an effort to interact with her frequently, but perhaps she was just tired from her travels. Surely she’d see more of the sorceress tomorrow. There would be questions. Many questions.

  She wanted to enact her current plan before Keiren could try to stop her. She would attempt to take Kai to the in-between while Maarav watched over them. She wasn’t even sure if it could be done, or if they’d be able to locate Finn, but if everything worked, she wanted Kai there. Finn would trust him more than Ealasaid. He could bridge the gap between them. If she wasn’t there . . . then perhaps her mother, the woman who looked so much like her, could help.

  “Is it really necessary for me to lie on the bed with you,” Kai asked, already seated on the mattress as he tugged off his left boot, then his right. Though candles and a roaring fire lit the room, the shadows of night gave the situation an air of intimacy.

  “Trust me,” Maarav muttered, leaning his back against the closed door, “if there were any other way, I’d be the one in bed with my wife.”

  Ealasaid smirked, her eyes lingering on the extra weapons Maarav had donned to protect them, then advanced toward the bed. “Yes, I’ll admit it’s not my preference either, but I need to be touching you. It’s either that, or we both lie on the floor.”

  “Fine,” Kai sighed, then swung his legs up, settling his head on one of two pillows.

  Holding her chin high to bely the fact that she was feeling just as embarrassed as Kai, Ealasaid climbed onto the bed beside him. Lying on her back, she tugged her long blonde curls out from under her, then situated her head on her pillow. She took Kai’s hand, holding it tightly.

  “What happens if you accidentally let go?” he asked, his voice wary.