by Nora Roberts
Still crouched, she shot him a look of sheer annoyance. “Because your boy doesn’t have to be hungry, your people don’t have to be afraid. Because we’re not your enemy.” She straightened. “I’ll ask again. Is this your land?”
“We’re camped here, until we move on and camp somewhere else.”
“How many are you?”
When he folded his arms, Liana sighed. “Kilo, if you won’t trust her, trust me. I see who and what she is. What they are.”
“Thirty-six,” he muttered.
“Eight are children,” Liana added. “And one will bring another into the world soon.”
“Do you have medicals with you, healers?”
“I do what I can,” Liana said. “But I’m not skilled enough. The one who’s pregnant needs to rest. So we stopped here, only a few hours ago. Don’t you see the miracle, Kilo? Only a few hours ago.”
“There are no miracles.”
Fallon lifted an arm, and the owl landed on it. Faol Ban walked out of the woods to stand at her side. She gestured to Laoch. “A leader, even a stubborn one, should believe his own eyes. Would you stay if you had supplies, defenses, more people and weapons? If the shelters here could be made to serve?”
“A moving target’s harder to hit.”
“How long do you want to be a target?” she retorted. “How long do you want your children to be targets? If you stay, I can and will send supplies, weapons, more people who can train yours how to fight, how to plant, how to fish, how to build a community, and one with security. Milk,” she said to Liana. “Fruit, vegetables, blankets, clothing.”
“What do you want for all this you’ll bring?” Kilo demanded.
“An army. War’s coming. I’ll build that army whether you go or stay. I’ll bring supplies whether you go or stay, because your people need them. Whether you go or stay I’ll build here, in this place, because it serves my cause. And if you stay, or wherever you go, I’ll fight for you. She’ll fight for you,” she said, laying a hand on Tonia’s shoulder. “The army we raise will fight for you.”
“In other words, lead, follow, or get out of the way.” Tonia shrugged. “To keep it simple.” When he gave her a curled lip, she pushed forward, slapped a fist on the brick wall of his chest.
“Let me tell you something else, asshole—”
“Tonia—”
“No, fuck diplomacy. Skinny girls, my ass. That skinny girl led this skinny girl and an army of people who aren’t big, giant dicks to Arlington, and won.”
“Bullshit” was Kilo’s response as others muttered and murmured.
But someone else shoved through. He, too, bore scars, and limped as he leaned on a staff. But the hand that gripped Fallon’s arm had strength.
“Arlington? They took my sister. They left me for dead, and took her. The PWs. They took her to Arlington.”
“When?”
“We found Sam last winter,” Liana said. “He was badly hurt. We didn’t think he’d live.”
“But you didn’t leave him behind. You helped him.”
“Maybe not a complete asshole,” Tonia mumbled.
“Your sister? Is she magickal?”
“No. Please. She’s Aggie. Agnes Haver. Please, they took her.”
“If she was there, we freed all the slaves. I’ll find her, and I’ll bring her to you. I have the names of everyone we got out. We took Arlington,” she said to Kilo. “And more than sixty who fought with me died to free those like his sister. They fought and died to take a place of torment and cruelty and bring the light. Do not dishonor the dead. If you can stand here and do that, you’re not worthy to lead or follow. So you can get out of the way.”
She stepped back, drew her spirit animals to her. “I’ll send supplies, and if they held Aggie in Arlington, I’ll bring her.”
She nodded to Tonia. They flashed.
“The man’s a freaking giant,” Tonia said the minute they stood behind Fallon’s house. “And a total dick.”
“Still, he’s kept over thirty people alive, including kids, and when he came across a half-dead stranger, didn’t just move on. One way or the other, the location works. We’re going to start building it a lot sooner than I’d thought. Gotta follow the signs when they smack you in the face.”
“Who do you figure to send up there?”
“Poe and Kim. Their kids are old enough to go, or to stay in the barracks for a few weeks. Or months, depending. Poe and Kim? They’re tough, smart, experienced, and they won’t take any crap.”
“You got that. Plus, Poe?” Tonia shot out a grin. “He’s not a freaking giant like that Kilo, but, man, he’s totally ripped. That gets respect from dicks. And Kim’s logic-genius brain will do the rest. So. I’ll talk to them.”
“If they don’t want to go—”
“I have a feeling they will. It’s just the kind of challenge they’d go for.”
She thought the same, and since Tonia’s connection with the couple went all the way back, she’d leave the approach to her friend. “We’ll need to send a healer and at least twelve skilled in fighting and building. Three to help establish plantings, a greenhouse.”
“Let me talk to my mom. She’ll know.”
“They don’t all have to come from New Hope. I can pull some in from other bases. But yeah, ask her who she thinks would work best in that kind of situation. I need to go check my names for Agnes Haver.”
“You’ll find her. Trust the signs. Hell of a trip, Fallon. Thanks for the lift.”
* * *
The setting sun burned red through the trees when Fallon came back to the clearing. This time she came with four other magickals, a former slave, and supplies.
Kilo rose from his seat around a campfire, spear in hand.
He said nothing when Sam let out a cry, stumbled forward to embrace his sister. “Aggie. Oh God, Aggie.”
“You’re alive. I thought they’d killed you. Sam. Sam.”
“She should sit, have water,” Fallon told them. “Flashing, even with the tonic, can leave NMs—non-magickals—a little dizzy and shaky.”
“Take her in the cabin, Sam.” Liana rose as well. “Let’s get her inside.”
With tears streaming, Sam turned to Fallon. “I’ll fight for you.”
“Take care of your sister for now.”
Kilo watched them help Aggie into the cabin. “You keep your word.”
“I do. I’ve brought you some basic supplies as well as a healer. Magda’s also a skilled soldier. You have three other skilled soldiers. Buck can help you build a greenhouse and plant if you choose to stay. Carolyn and Fritz can help begin to fortify your shelters. More are coming, but it’s going to take several days, more likely a couple of weeks for them to get here.”
“They can’t just—” He snapped his fingers, made her smile.
“Poe and Kim will be in charge. They survived the Doom, are fierce warriors, and helped build a community. They’ll build one here. Their sons are coming with them—good soldiers. Young, but good soldiers. They’ll help train any who stay. They’re bringing horses, a milk cow, chickens, more medicines. Kim’s also an herbalist.”
She looked around. “In time, if you don’t already have them among you, you’ll have teachers, weavers, farmers, technicians, fishermen. Until you can self-sustain, we’ll bring what you need. And in time, instead of being the target, you’ll be the arrow.”
Liana came to the cabin door. “Could we have the healer? Kara’s water broke. I’ve helped deliver before, but—”
“Be right there.” Magda tapped the kit she carried. “New life. The best part of the job. Bright blessings on you, Fallon.”
“And on you, and the new life you help bring. Carolyn, why don’t you take a couple of the blankets in there, and some of the tea and honey. Where would you like the rest?” she asked Kilo.
“The rest?”
“Bread, butter, cheese, eggs, some grains, vegetables, and so on. More blankets, socks, sweaters, some cooking gear, knives, sw
ords, arrows. Basics,” she repeated.
“You might want to, for now, designate one cabin for the foodstuffs and the other supplies, and another for weapons.”
“You bring all this, say take it whether we fight with you or not.”
“Fighting’s a choice. Food, shelter, clothing are necessary for life. The weapons? If you go, they stay, but the rest? You can take whatever you can carry.”
“If we stay, if we fight, this is our land? Our place, one you’ll help us build and defend?”
“Yes.”
He stepped to her, held out a huge hand. “Deal.”
She helped organize the supplies, stayed for a meal of stew holding some of the vegetables and herbs she’d brought with her.
Recognizing the accent of the old man beside her, she spoke with him in Spanish as they ate.
When she offered a bottle of wine, the bottle passed from hand to hand around the fire. She supposed they’d make use of the cups she’d brought later.
The cry of a newborn carried from the cabin, so the bottle passed around again.
Liana came to the door, called out, “A girl. A beautiful, healthy girl! She’ll be called Saol, in honor of the light.”
“Light for life,” Fallon murmured, and took the bottle Kilo passed her. “To new life,” she said, lifting the bottle in toast. “To the light in her.”
And drank.
CHAPTER TEN
With fall riding chilly winds, Fallon traveled to both emerging bases. When needed, she brought supplies, personnel, drawing from New Hope, Arlington, even what Mick had dubbed The Beach.
With Poe, Kim, and Kilo’s people, she set up Bayview. With Flynn and Starr, Forestville. As October waned, she had bases on three sides of D.C., and plans to cover the fourth.
“Rock Creek Forest.” She showed her father on the map.
“Close, and without the river as a natural boundary. D.C. gets wind you’re moving in there…”
“It has to be a covert operation. It’s forested, mostly uninhabited. Most who escaped D.C. kept going. There’s game, a strong creek, nearby houses. This? Was a school, a good-sized campus, with its buildings largely intact.”
“You’ve scouted?”
“A few times now. Strategically, it’s tailor-made for a scouting base. Here?” She moved her finger over the map. “A small city, deserted, wasted, borders D.C. We’ll leave it for now, but it’ll be useful after.”
“After we take D.C.”
Not if, she thought, not from her father. “Right. Thomas has nearly a hundred and fifty at his camp now, the faerie bower more than sixty, the shifter’s den nearly the same. I’ve asked for who they can spare, and we could put a hundred. A hundred,” she repeated, “skilled at blending into forests, living in and from them in Rock Creek. Nobody moves faster than an elf, and shifters and faeries aren’t far behind.”
“When we’re ready, we attack from all directions.”
“All.” She pulled out her map of D.C. and went over the tactics and timing, the troop movements with him.
Then she drew in a breath. “And with Duncan’s forces, less those who’ll stay back to defend Utah, Troy’s, and forces from New Hope, we hit here.”
Simon stared at her when she jabbed a finger at the map. “Jesus, Fallon, from inside? Pennsylvania Avenue?”
“We flash. Five thousand soldiers.”
He had to sit back. “You can do that? Five thousand?”
She smiled. “It’ll take a lot of tonic for the NMs, but yes, we can do it. Five thousand from inside the lines, another five thousand breaking the lines from all directions.”
“We’d have them outnumbered, when you add in whatever resistance forces are in or around the city.” As he considered, Simon rose to wander the kitchen. “Still, it’s their turf, the structures, the roadways. They’ve got tanks and armored vehicles, and access to some serious weapons. But…”
He stopped. “A coordinated surprise attack? It’s bold, baby. It could work.”
“We need it to work. It’ll take more than ten thousand to take New York, to take the West, to cross oceans. Taking Arlington added to our numbers, our assets. It inspired. Taking D.C., defeating the seat of a government that hunts its own people? Pays bounties on children because they’re different? It strikes a blow to the heart of the enemy.”
“When?”
“We’ve got more to do, but … Even though it took longer than I’d hoped, I’d started to worry it would take longer yet. Arlington changed that. January second.”
Understanding, he nodded. “The day the first died. The day Katie’s father died of the Doom.”
“And the day I was conceived. Magicks began their rise, both the light and the dark. Another symbol, I guess.”
She knew it in her head, her gut, in her blood.
“January second.”
* * *
Duncan held the Samhain ritual—you had to respect rites and traditions—and made it optional. You also had to respect some of the base, and plenty of the NMs on it, didn’t want to get into calling on gods and dead ancestors.
But when he cast the circle, lit the candles, brought food and flowers to the altar, it surprised him how many came out, either to participate or to watch.
He decided they figured, as he did, a band of eighty-three on a base in the desert could use all the power it could get.
So he said the words, called the elements, let the power roll through him, from him. He thought of his grandparents, the father he’d never known, the man who’d stood—too briefly—as a father to him. Of Denzel, who’d been a brother. Of Marly and Len, of all who’d fallen in the fight.
The wind sighed and stirred in that vast space, the voices rose up like the buttes into a sky gone bloodred with the setting sun.
And he felt her, for the first time in weeks felt her in the sigh and stir, heard her in the rise of voices. She, too, would have cast the circle, lit the candles, brought the food and flowers. As he knew his own thoughts, he knew she thought of the father she’d never known, of the lost and the fallen.
So for a moment, almost painfully, he was linked to her, as if he gripped her hand. For that moment, almost painful, they joined in prayer and purpose.
Then she was gone.
Out of habit he patrolled the base after nightfall. The eighty-two with him knew their jobs, but he patrolled because it kept him busy, kept the troops sharp. He had armed sentries on six-hour shifts, had transformed the half-assed PW base into a secure and fortified one, a self-sustaining one with gardens, livestock, wind and solar power, a supply hut, an armory, infirmary, disciplined troops.
Some still green, he thought, but the hours of training, the rotations of scouting, scavenging, cooking, drilling had sharpened them up.
Still, some of them were green, and he’d need every one of them seasoned, well seasoned, by January second.
He’d heard that on the wind. She’d probably send word to him, though she had to have felt him just as tangibly as he had her. But Fallon would send word, one way or the other, and he’d prepare those troops for the onslaught on D.C.
Not yet enough of them, and that worried him. Not all they’d freed had stayed. Most, but not all, and the scouting had only gathered in a handful.
He knew there were more, he’d felt that, too. Watching. Waiting for who knew what.
Restless, edgy, mildly pissed off for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint, he got his bike. He’d ride out a few miles, take a little solo time, let the wind and speed blow away the mood.
He went out through a checkpoint, then opened the bike up on the long, flat road. From the first, he appreciated the sights, scents, sounds of the West. The echoing canyons, the fast rivers with their wild rapids tumbling, the sheer brilliance of the stars. But tonight, he yearned for home, the fields and forests, the roll of hills, his family, his friends. All the familiar.
When he’d worked with Mallick, he’d been able to take an hour or two now and again to flash home. But here, ful
ly in charge, he couldn’t afford the luxury.
The agrodome had just begun—ha-ha—to bear fruit. Coyotes and wildcats meant constant vigilance with the livestock. Scavenging alone could equal a full-time job.
He shouldn’t, he knew, even be out like this, but, God, he needed it.
He needed to kick up the hand-to-hand training. D.C. meant street fighting, of the ugly and bloody. He wondered if he could devise a way to conjure the illusion of streets, buildings, rubble. It would help if he had a clear idea what D.C. looked like. It sure as hell wouldn’t look like the old pictures and DVDs.
Brooding, he nearly missed it, that shimmer of power on the air. Instinct kicked in. He slowed the bike, reached out.
Watching, he thought. Waiting.
Well, screw that.
He stopped the bike, got off. Put a hand on the hilt of his sword.
“If you need help, I can offer it. If you want a fight, I can oblige. Either way, grow some balls and come out.”
“I’m not interested in growing balls.” She rode a painted horse out of the dark as if she’d parted a curtain. “I’ve no problem slicing them off a man, if necessary.”
“I think I’ll keep mine.”
Late twenties, he thought, and striking enough he wanted to sketch those sharp cheekbones, the deep eyes, the long black braid that trailed to her waist. She carried a bow and quiver and sat the horse bareback.
“I might let you keep them, and just take the bike.”
“Nope.” He felt the movement behind him, tossed power back, heard the whoosh of stolen breath.
“Good reflexes,” she said. “But small brains to ride out so far alone.”
Another dozen riders walked through the curtain to flank her. In a finger snap he had his sword in his hand, laid down a line of fire between them.
Most of the horses shied, but not hers. Both she and her mount stayed steady.
“Is it worth your life?” she asked.
“Is it worth yours?” He started to scan the faces, stopped on one, a girl of about fifteen. “You were with the PWs. They made you a slave. Kerry—no. Sherry. They hurt you. They hurt her.” He looked back at the leader. “They branded her and … worse. Is she one of yours?”