The Rise of Magicks

by Nora Roberts

  “Can’t argue with it,” Will admitted. “But I’d feel better going into this with a shitload of swords, arrows, bullets, and soldiers.”

  “And we will. But we’ll also go with the light, strong and powerful enough to shut down the dark.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  It felt a little strange, and altogether amazing, to sit in Fallon’s kitchen while she fixed breakfast. Just the two of them, Duncan thought, in the big house. Her parents and Ethan had left the day before, his mom had steadied up—with the framed picture of her family on the mantel.

  He’d be a fool not to take advantage of some Fallon time. And he was nobody’s fool. For the first time, they’d spent the night together in that big house, and now the morning after.

  He wondered if she wondered if this served as a kind of gateway into their future. And just where the gate would lead.

  He let her cook because she made it clear he sucked at cooking. He didn’t think he was that bad, but why argue? Besides, he liked watching her—the confidence, even a little flair.

  She set the plates on the counter, sat beside him.

  “Looks great, smells great.” He sampled a forkful. “Tastes— Wow. What is it?”

  “Pesto and roasted tomato omelette with some goat cheese.”

  “Take after your mom. She’s the best cook in the world.”

  “She’d say there’s not a lot of competition.”

  “Are you worried about her, about them?”

  She tasted the omelette, found herself pleased she’d pulled it off as she’d been taught. “No. I worried I’d worry, if you get me, but I’m not. It’s all steps somehow. I just wanted to fly, to take some time to think, and there was Lucy. Now through her maybe we get a couple hundred soldiers. And maybe one of them points us in a direction that gets us a couple hundred more.”

  “We’ll need them. Is that what’s worrying you? New York. I hear the worry.”

  “I’d be stupid not to worry. It’s a big bite. And what Will said the other day isn’t wrong. It’s not enough to be right. We need soldiers and weapons.”

  He said nothing for a moment as they ate in the quiet hum of the kitchen, in the warmth of it while winter held cold and hard outside.

  “They can’t always understand,” he began. “Will’s a hell of a commander. Tough, smart, courageous, committed. I learned how to fight from him—learned how to fight smart—but he can’t always understand. He accepts and respects magick. That can’t always be a snap, either, right?”

  “I guess I don’t always think often enough from their side. Just listening to Fred, how she talked about those weeks in New York when everything changed. How she changed.”

  “Will, Eddie, the other NMs—with the big exception being your dad—are always going to think the conventional way first. Even after twenty years in this world, they lived that long and longer in the other. I figure that’s a good thing.”

  Curious, she shifted to him. “Why?”

  “Because that’s how the world works now. The mix. We’re a mix of conventional—or what was conventional—and magickal. It works best when everybody accepts. You and me, we’ve got that mix right inside our own families. So does Will, so does Eddie. I figure that’s how it’s going to be now.”

  “That’s another reason we’ll win.”

  “Check that. I’ve spent some time at the barracks and the academy since I came back. Some students, some recruits are going to need more seasoning. You’ve got some like Denzel.”

  It gave him a pang, always did, when he thought of his friend.

  “He was never going to be a soldier,” Duncan went on, “but he thought—hell, lived to be one. Because he figured combat was exciting, dangerous, just plain cool.”

  She thought of how desperately she’d wanted to use the sword hanging over the hearth in Mallick’s cottage because … cool.

  “Didn’t you at first?”

  “Maybe.” He added a half laugh. “No, hell yeah. Got that knocked out of me, thanks to Will.”

  She got up to get more coffee. “We need the numbers, Duncan.”

  “I hear you. Are you going to eat the rest of that?”

  “Yes.” She poured the coffee, sat, picked up her fork. “The numbers determine how soon we can move on New York. Can you work directly with the ones you feel need that seasoning?”

  “Sure.” Since it didn’t look like he’d get the rest of her omelette, he took his plate to the sink. Assumed, correctly, he’d take cleanup since she’d cooked. “I could use Mallick.”

  She sighed. “I really wanted to give him some time at his cottage, but you’re right. He’s needed.”

  When she finished, she cleared her plate, wandered to the glass doors. “I’ll spend some time on it, too. I need to go to the elf camp near the cottage, check in there, and up north. I thought Meda and I should scout in the West. We could pick up more. And I need to go back to the farm, the village. God, I miss the farm.”

  Leaning on the door, she looked out at winter, the snow-covered garden, the woods beyond. “I don’t know if it’ll be home for me again. It’s like your mother talked about Brooklyn. It’s not home for her anymore. I don’t know if the farm will be for me, even though I miss it like a limb.”

  “I’ll make a home with you.”

  It took her breath so she had to steady herself as she turned to face him. He held a dishcloth, but, God, he’d never look domesticated. The winter sun streamed through the windows, pale as water, and flowed over the sword he wore, as she did, as routinely as another wore shoes.

  “We can make a home. Here, there, somewhere else.”

  “You’d leave New Hope if—”

  “It’s you I won’t leave, Fallon.”

  It trembled through her, the solid certainty of him, in him.

  “Loving you makes me afraid,” she told him. “Afraid of what’s to come, where I’m leading others to go. Are you afraid?”

  “Of dying in battle? Of losing someone else I love? Damn straight I’m afraid. And afraid doesn’t mean dick. Doing what’s next, that’s what counts.”

  She let out a half laugh. “You’re the only one.”

  “I’d better be.”

  “No—such an ass—you’re the only one who measured up.”

  “To what?”

  “My fathers.”

  He tossed the cloth aside as he crossed to her. “You’re calling your fathers asses?”

  “No, that’s just for you.” She gripped his hands. “At fourteen, I opened the Book of Spells, and all it held blew into me in a storm of power and knowledge. With that I leaped into the Well of Light to take the sword and shield from the fire.”

  “Now you’re just bragging.”

  “No, no.” She laughed, squeezed his hands. “All of that, all of it, is no more magickal than being able to stand here with you, knowing I can be afraid with you and we can do what’s next. Knowing we will do what’s next.”

  She brought his hands to her lips. “I’ll make a home with you. Here, there, or somewhere else.”

  He started to draw her in to hold that moment. And they both felt it.

  “They’re back.” She let her hand lay on his heart another second. “Mallick and the others.”

  * * *

  They gathered in the war room after Duncan went to get Will. As her mother’s daughter she made coffee, tea, lit the fire, and struggled to be patient until everyone settled in.

  “I want to thank all of you for making this journey,” Fallon began.

  Travis gestured with his mug. “I want to say, straight off, the snow queen’s got, you know, style. Her HQ’s the next thing to a palace.”

  “Excessive.” Meda chose tea, black, no honey. No frills.

  “Yeah, maybe, but it didn’t hurt my feelings to have a little taste of luxury. Which she definitely has.”

  Arlys, prepared to take notes, shot Travis an indulgent look. “She’s converted what was a five-star hotel in the heart of Montreal to her he
adquarters, her home. She lives the high life, literally, in the penthouse suite—and takes the entire floor. However, she’s also seen to it her people have housing, food, clothing, medical attention. Other buildings we toured have been converted into clinics, schools, greenhouses, tanneries.”

  “She indulges herself, a great deal,” Meda put in with clear disapproval. “Fancy clothes, dripping jewelry. But.”

  She jerked a shoulder in what Fallon read as reluctant respect. “Her people aren’t neglected or misused. They have food, shelter.”

  “And she listens to them,” Travis added.

  “Yes, in her way. They use, primarily, wind and solar energy. Their training facility could be improved, but their security’s strong.”

  “She was very gracious,” Arlys put in, “and seemed receptive to Meda’s suggestions on their training facilities and methods. It’s certainly a different feel from New Hope. Her center’s very urban, and she’s most definitely in charge. She has advisers, but it’s not the sort of setup where they do any more than advise. She rules.”

  “And how do her people feel about that?”

  “They love her,” Travis said. “They trust her, and they feel safe. She loves them. It’s not bullshit. Their safety and well-being are important to her.”

  “Did you? Trust her?”

  “Yeah. She’s an easy read.”

  “She tried her wiles on him,” Meda added.

  “Is that so?”

  Travis grinned. “She’s too … fancy,” he decided. “Hot, yeah, but too fancy and not my type. And it was more of a test. She likes sex, a lot—another easy read. But it was more of a test. Same with Mallick.”

  “She—” Fallon’s gaze flew to the sorcerer, who sat silent and placid. “Really?”

  “Just a test,” Travis continued. “Maybe with some thoughts in there on gaining a little advantage if she could bag Mallick the Sorcerer and the brother of The One. Anyway, not my type.”

  He shot a look—close to a leer—at Meda.

  “Act your age, little man.”

  “This is acting my age. I like hot warrior chicks.”

  “I think we can move on from that. Mallick, other than attempting to seduce you and a teenager, were there negotiations that apply?”

  “Yes. She wants your allegiance very much. She’s very aware she needs you more than you need her. Her concern for her people is, as Travis said, very real, and very deep. She is particularly concerned that the children in her region are not only safe and educated and sheltered, but happy. Her ambition is not slight. She wants the region, and believes she can bring it safety and prosperity.”

  “She’s not wrong,” Arlys said. “She’s ensured loyalty because she gives it. It may be a kind of benign dictatorship, but we’re in a different world. I didn’t see any cruelty in her or her rule.”

  “She offers two thousand fighting troops for that allegiance.”

  “Three now.” Mallick poured more tea. Winter chilled his bones now in a way it hadn’t for centuries.

  “Three?”

  “She has four,” Travis told her. “An easy read. But we agreed she needed to hold back a portion to secure her city, her people.”

  Mallick nodded. “There are old and young and others unable to fight who need protection. As well as the city itself. The three thousand come with arms—and her forges will continue to produce weapons. As you suspected, she has other alliances. With these negotiations, she brought in those leaders. They are both smaller groups, but we have, between them, another fifteen hundred.”

  “Over four thousand.” Feeling the surge, Fallon sat back. “What did we promise in return?”

  “We recognize her rule and the sovereignty of the other alliances. If needed, we assist them against our common enemies. We open trade with them, while respecting their borders. A small side deal with Vivienne is her request we assist her people in creating a tropics area and the means to begin growing coffee beans, tea, cacao, pepper, citrus, and so on.”

  “Smart,” Fallon decided. “Not only will she have that capability, but she’ll be able to trade directly with her other alliances. I’d prefer if we sent a coven up to create it rather than giving them the means to do it themselves.”

  “Which is what we agreed to. She’s satisfied with that.”

  “Good. Over four thousand and, with luck, nearer to five when Mom and Dad and Ethan get back.”

  “From where?” Travis demanded. “I thought they were just busy somewhere.”

  “They are. Just not in New Hope.”

  She explained the mission, listened to the back-and-forth. Then rose. “I want to thank all of you. By successfully negotiating these alliances, you’ve given us a strong advantage. We have allies in the north, and thousands of troops who’ll fight with us. We’ll need them to take New York. Meda, would you be willing to go west with me to find more? To hopefully find and forge other alliances?”

  “I answer the call of The One.”

  “Travis, I need you on this one.”

  He sent a wide grin to Meda, who answered it with a stony stare. “No problem.”

  “Arlys, I’d love to read what you’ll write on this in New Hope News.”

  “It’s all but written. I promised Vivienne a copy. They have very, and that’s very, rudimentary IT, but Chuck will figure it out.”

  “Okay then. Mallick, if you could stay for a minute.”

  The rest headed out, Duncan and Travis to the barracks, Will and Arlys back to New Hope, and Meda to prepare for the next journey.

  Fallon poured Mallick more tea, moved to sit beside him. “Three words to describe Vivienne.”

  “Vain, ambitious, loyal.”

  “I can work with all of those.”

  “I’ll add she envies you.”

  “Me?”

  “Your power and position. With the envy is genuine admiration, and a little fear.”

  “I can work with those, too. Is there any reason to think, if we help her secure Quebec, establish herself as head of that state, she’ll want more?”

  Pleased she thought beyond the battle, he picked up the tea. “I think not. Quebec is personally important for and to her. More would require more work. I believe she’ll be a staunch ally. She sent you a gift.”

  Rising, he walked to the bag he’d brought in, took out a small pouch. Intrigued, Fallon opened it.

  The moonstone pendant glowed white. Carved on it, as if as one, three figures blended. The owl, the wolf, the alicorn.

  “It’s beautiful.” The stone was set in silver, the words inscribed on its back read: WISDOM, COURAGE, LOYALTY. THE SPIRITS OF THE ONE. “And, like Arlys said, gracious. I’ve never seen work this fine outside of the vault we found in D.C.”

  “Her craftsmen do more than make the practical. She has jewelers, silver- and goldsmiths, those skilled in working with silks, velvets, furs. Quebec will be a monarchy under her. I believe she’ll rule well.”

  Because it touched her, Fallon hooked the pendant onto the chain with Max’s wedding ring, Simon’s St. Michael’s medal. Rubbing her fingers over the faces, she spoke casually. “She didn’t tempt you?”

  “She’s too fancy for me,” he said, clearly amused. “And not my type. What do you need to ask of me?”

  She looked at him then. “I wanted to give you time at your cottage, but instead I’m asking you to stay in New Hope, to help Duncan season some of the recruits. I’m sorry to—”

  He waved her off before she finished. “Fifteen centuries I’ve waited to fulfill my duties. This is what I’m made for.” In a rare show of affection, he closed a hand over hers. “I answer the call of The One.”

  “You could have Colin’s room while you’re here.”

  “Now, that does tempt me. But I’d do better with the seasoning if I stayed at the barracks. Perhaps I’ll be invited to a meal when your mother returns.”

  “I’ll make sure of it. In the meantime, I can tell you they eat well at the barracks. We’ve seen to tha
t.”

  “Then I’ll join Duncan and Travis, and get a meal. A safe journey west.” He rose, retrieved his bag, then looked back at her. “You’ve done well, girl.”

  “High praise from the old man.”

  Alone, she sat a moment longer. Not just battle plans now, not only training, readying troops. Now alliances, politics, diplomats, borders. Now visions for the tomorrows must come through the smoke. She had no desire to be a queen, to rule over the re-forming world. But if she took up the sword to lead that world to war, she needed to know the ways to embrace the peace, and hold it.

  Once, she’d drawn back the curtain to show Colin the blood and battle, the worst the dark demanded. She held the hope that one day, she’d draw it back to peace, to unity, to all the light offered.

  But for now she rose to prepare for the journey, for her quest to find more souls to lead to war.

  * * *

  While Fallon packed provisions, Lana sat in the pristine living room of Tereza Aldi, Lucy’s grandmother. A handsome woman, her stone-gray hair coiled in a braided bun at her nape, she sat stiffly in a chair.

  She offered no refreshment.

  A wood-burning stove, obviously scavenged and added after the Doom, squatted in the corner and sent out some stingy heat.

  Still, the chill in the room came as much from the woman as the winter.

  “I appreciate you seeing me, Mrs. Aldi.”

  “I’ve told you we have nothing to say to each other, but you’re persistent.”

  “Women raising children in this world have to be. I’d hoped you had some message you’d like me to take to Lucy.”

  “She made her choice.”

  “She told my daughter you once hid a magickal from Purity Warriors.”

  “We’re not heathens.” She lifted a hand to the cross she wore around her neck. “Or fanatics, like that godless cult.”