[Chronicles of the One 03.0] The Rise of Magicks Page 11

  And fell bloodied and burned to the ground.

  She heard Flynn’s cry of grief like a heart breaking inside her head. With rage, she flung power at the fire around her, beat at it with furious fists of light.

  His laughter rang as he pulled lightning from the sky, pummeling the ground with it like rain. She pushed through the dying fire, striking at bolts with her sword, flinging them upward with her shield.

  He chanted, drawing up smoke from the ground that hissed and snapped like snakes.

  “Your light dims and dies,” he shouted. “And the shell that’s left of you I’ll spread at Petra’s feet.”

  Drawing in, drawing up her power, pulling it as she charged across the bloodied field. She swore she heard the sword in her hand sing.

  “By the blood of my blood.” Heat soaked her, but she fought forward. “By the flesh of my flesh, the bone of my bone. By the light of my light, be damned.”

  When she struck him down, when his laughter became a shriek, she felt the jolt shake through her, all but steal her breath.

  He lay, breath gurgling. “She will be your doom.”

  “No. I’ll be hers. As I’m yours.”

  She plunged the sword into him, ended it.

  She lifted her sword high, called on the cool light of the moon to cleanse it. Once cleansed, she drove the point into the ground. So the ground shook, and light burst like noon before it faded to starlight.

  “This place is now the place of the light. We claim this place. Light for life.”

  There were cheers, but she walked through them with tears on her cheeks toward Flynn.

  He stood, holding the wolf who’d given his life to save him. She saw his broken heart in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

  “He died a warrior, a hero. He died in—” When his voice broke, Flynn pressed his face to Lupa’s bloody fur.

  “He died in service to The One.” Starr stepped up beside Flynn, and though her voice shook, she continued. “To the light she stands for. To the light we fight for.

  “Come.” She who rarely touched or allowed herself to be touched, laid an arm around Flynn’s shoulders. “We’ll take him home.”

  At another shout, Fallon turned, looked with eyes blurred with tears as Colin fixed a cloth with the fivefold symbol shining silver on a field of white onto a flagpole.

  The PW brand lay trampled in the dirt. And they raised the standard of The One over Arlington.

  Faeries flew in to transport wounded even as, now with the base under their control, more healers rushed in to treat some where they lay.

  Fallon ordered sentries to take their posts, and teams to sweep through every house and building, every shed and structure to make certain they missed no enemy, no wounded.

  No dead.

  She searched for her father as she did her own sweeps until her heart began to pulse in her throat.

  When she saw Will leading a team out of a fortified house, giving the all clear so one of the witches could shimmer a fivefold symbol on the door, she hurried to him.

  “I haven’t seen my father. I need to—”

  “He’s okay. He took a hit, but—”

  “Where is he? How bad? My mother—”

  “Breathe,” he told her. “I swear to you he’s okay. We had him, you know, airlifted to the mobile. Your mother treated him herself. A through and through, right side, mostly caught meat.”

  “No one told me.”

  “He made me swear not to, and I agreed with him. I just got word from one of the medics he’s on his feet, and already on his way back here.” He added a smile and a shoulder rub. “Your mother cleared him.”

  “Okay.” She did as Will suggested and breathed. “Eddie, Aaron,” she began.

  “They’re okay. We lost people, Fallon, and it’s going to be hard to take those losses back to New Hope.”

  The weight already lay in her belly like stones. “I need names and numbers, casualties and wounded, as soon as it’s possible.”

  “You’ll have them. Are we going to count you among the wounded? You’re bleeding here and there, and you’ve got some burns.”

  “I’ll take care of it when the rest are treated. We need to—” She broke off, managed a shaky “Dad,” and ran to Simon.

  He caught her, his grip on her as tight as hers on him. “I’m okay. But you—” He pulled her back. “You need a medic.”

  “When everyone’s treated. It’s nothing. You’re pale. Let me see.”

  She yanked up his shirt before he could object, studied the healing wound in his right side. Laid her hand over it. “It’s clean, and healing. You’re pale from the blood loss. You should rest until—”

  “I’m good enough, and your mom agreed.”

  She studied his face, saw a little pain. “After how big an argument?”

  “I won. Word’s already traveling back at how you ended this, and I want to hear all about it later, from you. I’m going to tell you now your mom, Travis, everyone on medical and support are okay.”

  Her blood went cold. “What does that mean? What happened?”

  “A handful of deserters got through the lines. They figured they’d take one of the mobile units and escape. They didn’t, but there was a skirmish. Your mom, Travis, Rachel, Hannah, Jonah, some of the others? Kicked some serious ass.”

  “Was she hurt?”

  “Not only not hurt, but she, and the rest of them, protected the wounded, the mobiles, and ended up with seven prisoners. Take your victory, baby.”

  “The Dark Uncanny killed Lupa. He— I couldn’t stop him in time.”

  Simon lowered his brow to hers. “I’m sorry. I’m damn sorry. Flynn?”

  “He and Starr will take him home. We’ll take our dead home. We’ll cremate the enemy dead. There are too many to bury, and we’ll take ours home.”

  She looked around, saw Taibhse perched on the pole above the flag. She sent her mind to Faol Ban, found him where she’d asked him to be, helping guard the wounded. And Laoch returning to her from taking the last injured to medical.

  All of hers, she thought, alive and well. But others . . .

  “Their blood sanctifies the ground.”

  With his hand still gripping hers, Simon felt the rise of her power, saw others who worked to clear, to gather the dead stop. Her voice rang, lifted, carried to every ear.

  “In this place where once dark ruled with cruelty and bigotry for a false and twisted god, I will bring a white stone, pure and polished. On this stone I will carve the names of all who died in the name of light and right, for the sake of the innocent. They will be mourned. They will be honored. They will be remembered.”

  Sighing, she turned back to Simon. “Can you help gather the names?”

  “Of course.”

  She stood in the smoke, and remembering her own vision, swept up her arms to clear the air of the stink of it.

  “I need to bring Chuck in to check out the tech, and I need a report from Thomas, one from Mallick. Troy and some of the others can add layers of magickal security to keep out enemies. We need an inventory of weapons, of supplies, equipment, medicines.”

  “What you need is a temporary HQ. Take theirs for now. Colin’s already on the weapon inventory. I saw him on my way in.”

  Just do the next thing, she told herself. Do the next thing, and when that was done, do the next.

  “If they can spare Jonah or Hannah back at the mobiles, I’d like one of them taking charge of doing the inventory of medical equipment and supplies.”

  “I’ll send a runner. We’ll get teams on the rest of the inventory. Baby, do your dad a favor and let one of the medics treat you.”

  “I can do it. I’ll set up in the HQ. I could use Chuck.”

  “I’ll have him brought in. Fallon? You’ve done what no one has been able to do in the decade or more since White and his PWs took this place.”

  “We did,” she corrected.

  “You’re right. And you were right
about fighting for it. We won’t forget the dead, but don’t you forget that. You were right.”

  He gestured to where a team had already begun dismantling the scaffold. “Put your stone there. Put it there where the bastards held their fucking public executions.”

  “Yes.” Thank God for him, she thought. Thank God for the man who could see and feel and know. “Yes, I’ll put it there.”

  As she started across the base, Tonia fell into step beside her. “Thanks for the save.”

  “Anytime.”

  “He was stronger than I anticipated—my mistake. Goddamn Petra.”

  “His death won’t mean anything to her. She’ll just find another. She already has others.”

  With Tonia she crossed a sidewalk, went up a trio of steps to a paved walkway toward a wide, covered porch.

  “I talked to Duncan.” Tonia tapped her temple. “We have Utah.”

  Fallon felt twin tugs of jubilation and trepidation. “How many casualties?”

  “Zip, zero. Not a single one. Some injuries, but not a single casualty on our side. He said their security was a joke, and half the enemy was drunk or stoned on peyote—which is a big no-no for PWs. I don’t think White sent his best. I think Dunc’s actually a little disappointed it was so easy.”

  “The next won’t be.” Fallon paused on the porch. “I’ll need a full report, and details of what they’ve done and are doing for our security there. The supplies, the prisoners, the rescued, all of it.”

  “He knows. Once they’ve done the inventory, got their numbers, and all that, Mallick’s coming back to report to you directly.”

  “Good. I’ll check in with Mick, and we can hope the news there is as positive. Meanwhile, we’re going to set up our HQ here.”

  She opened the door.

  As they stepped in, Tonia gaped. “Holy . . . Wow!”

  The entrance spread over gleaming floors, towered up three open stories. An elaborate staircase split and veered off right and left on the second floor. Overhead, an enormous light showered with crystals.

  Art in ornate frames covered the walls.

  As Fallon wandered farther, she saw some sort of open sitting room to her left with twin sofas covered with silky fabric, chairs with curved legs, tables of polished wood, lamps with more crystals sparkling.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” Tonia said as she shifted right.

  A fireplace framed with white stone shot through with silvery gray stood between tall white pillars. The room held a piano painted gold, more sofas, more chairs and tables and lamps, more art.

  A few pieces had been smashed or broken during the battle. The steel shutter over the big front window, compromised during the fight, hung crooked. Blood stained the colorful rug. Some had spilled on the polished floors.

  “Luxury,” Fallon said. “The leaders lived in luxury, stealing whatever they wanted, decorating their nests. And you see?” She moved to the window. “They could sit here, stand here in their stolen palace, and watch the crowds cheer as they hanged those like us.”

  “Not anymore.”

  “No, not anymore. We’ll leave what’s needed, take what isn’t to distribute where it is needed, or store until it is.”

  She roamed on, amazed at the space and furnishing of a dining room—another fireplace, this in a green stone she knew as malachite, a long, glossy table large enough to sit twenty surrounded by chairs with high backs and fancy seats. Sideboards holding silver candles and bowls.

  A kitchen that would surely have made her mother weep with joy, despite the blood on the floors, the broken doors of glass that led out to a stone patio, a pool, a garden, a fountain.

  A kitchen, she thought, where slaves had cooked and served.

  She opened a door. “A pantry—a big one, and with enough supplies to feed fifty for a week.”

  “Same with this fridge.” Tonia opened another door. “It’s a kind of laundry room. There’s a cot in here, shackles. They kept a personal slave.”

  “Not anymore,” Fallon said again, and opened another door. “Leads downstairs.” Though she knew the house had been cleared, she laid a hand on the hilt of her sword as they started down.

  “Communication center. Bless the goddess,” Tonia said with a wild grin. “Chuck is going to lose his shit. Man, oh fuck, Fallon, it’s as full of toys as anything I’ve seen outside of the nuke plants we hit.”

  “They worked hard putting this together.” Fallon studied the controls, monitors, radios, components. “Now we’ll use it against them.”

  “It’s got to be full of data, records, locations, everything. Chuck will dig it out.”

  “That’s his magick.”

  The battle had come here, she saw, in blood and gore, overturned chairs, bullet holes in walls.

  She walked to the broken door, stepped out into the steamy night. Closing her eyes, she reached out to Mick.

  Man, we’ve been waiting to hear from you. You’re okay?

  We have Arlington.

  Hot damn! What did you—

  Later. I need a sitrep.

  Well, we’ve got Carolina—or this part of it. Utah?

  Yes.

  We freaking did it!

  Casualties?

  She felt his hesitation, prepared for the worst.

  Eight. Sixteen wounded. We lost eight, Fallon. We lost Bagger.

  She grieved for the elf she’d known as a child, for the boy who had a love for jokes. I’m sorry, Mick.

  They lost more, I can tell you that. A hell of a lot more.

  She glanced back when she heard Chuck’s voice.

  “Oh, my hot, sexy mama, come to Papa!”

  I need Thomas or whoever you can spare to come in, give me full reports.

  Once we’re fully secured. The standard of The One flies here now.

  Do you have control of their comms?

  Yeah, we do, and the IT guy’s all over them.

  I need you to send a message on my signal.

  What and where?

  She told him, then went back in to relay the same to Tonia to give to Duncan.

  “Can you set it up so I can send out a message?” she asked Chuck.

  “You bet your fine ass I can. No offense.”

  “None taken. Can you send it so it goes out to whoever can listen? Whoever has communication abilities?”

  “With what I’ve got here, I’ve got a pretty long reach. You and Tonia could boost that. You probably don’t remember how you and Duncan boosted our first broadcast from New Hope.”

  “I actually do, at least a little.”

  “Tell Duncan to do the same on his end,” Fallon said as she communicated the idea to Mick. “How long do you need, Chuck?”

  He was already working controls. “Just a second. Do you want visual or just audio?”

  “All. Wait.” She held her hands to her face, did a glamour to mask blood, bruising, burns. “Not vanity,” she began.

  “You’re unhurt,” Tonia said. “Untouched. Any blood on The One is enemy blood. That’s good tactics.”

  “Ten seconds from my mark,” she told Tonia, Chuck, and Mick. “Boost it.”

  As controls lit up, monitors flashed, Chuck laughed. “Don’t get too crazy, girls. We’re up when you are.”

  “Mark,” she said.

  “Ten, nine, eight,” Chuck counted it off, then opened the channels.

  “To all who gather together in peace, to all who wish for peace, who protect, defend, who have suffered or shed blood to protect or defend, hear my voice and know there is hope. Know the light is with you, all of you, magickal and non. To the farmers, the builders, the teachers, the soldiers, the mothers, the sons, the fathers and daughters, know the light stands for you, fights for you. Rise up, rise up against those who oppress, against those who persecute and enslave. Know that for every one who seeks to destroy, we send twenty to stop them.

  “Hear my voice, persecutors, oppressors. Hear and know, Purity Warriors, Dark Uncanny, bounty hunters, Ra
iders, any who hunt and imprison, who torture and kill, your time is ending. What comes from the dark will die in the dark.”

  She drew her sword, filled it with light. “The light will burn you out. Tonight, the light has broken the chains of those held on the beaches of Carolina, in the desert of Utah, driven out the dark to claim those places in its name. Tonight, the light burned bright through the dark of Arlington, and it is ours. Fear me, all who shed innocent blood, all who seek to live on the fat, on the backs of slaves, fear me, all who have chosen the dark. Fear me and all who follow the light, for we will end you.”

  She held up her free hand, and in her palm a ball of fire blazed. “Here is the fire to burn through the dark, and all who follow it.” She closed her hand around the flames, opened it again. She held a white dove. “And here is the hope offered to all the rest.

  “I pledge both, the flame and the dove.

  “I am Fallon Swift. I am The One.”

  She nodded to Chuck. His hand shook a little as he ended the broadcast.

  “Some speech,” he managed.

  “Yeah. Some trick.” Tonia touched a fingertip to the dove’s breast.

  “It just came to me.” Fallon released the dove, waved it to freedom through the broken door. “Too much?”

  “I can tell you, if I was one of the bad guys?” Chuck let out a laugh. “I’d have shit my pants.”

  “Good.” Fallon laid a hand on his shoulder. “That’s what I was aiming for.”

  “Direct hit.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  While Fallon set up a headquarters at Arlington, Duncan did the same in Utah. He didn’t have the fine things, as she did, and had already started a list of what he’d need to build and maintain a viable base of operations.

  They’d need supplies to build better shelters, an agrodome for growing fruit. More chickens, cows, some goats, pigs, which meant pens and paddocks, some sort of barn. While he knew how to deal with livestock, there had to be somebody on base who’d have a better handle on that.

  He’d delegate faeries to start growing vegetables, herbs, and grains wherever it made sense, send scouts to find what they could find, possibly barter with communities, when and if they found any.