Revolution: Book Three of the Secret World Chronicle - eARC

by Mercedes Lackey

  The teams fell out of the hatch, those on the outside first helping everyone else out. Mamona and Matai were the toughest to get out, with special care attended to their injuries. Finally, everyone was out of the craft. John could see that there were large scars from the shrapnel of the explosion, with jagged tears in the hull.

  “Guys, look.” Mamona used her good arm to point back towards the Thulian base. “Just look at that.”

  A very large portion of the mountain where the Thulian North American Headquarters had occupied had exploded and then imploded, collapsing on itself. A gigantic cloud of dust had formed above where the main base was; plumes of black smoke streamed up from the crater itself where underground fires must still be burning. The nearest thing John had ever seen to it was the destruction caused by the Mt. St. Helen’s eruption. Luckily, aside from the blastwave, the destruction was localized; after all, they weren’t dead. There were dozens of Thulian Death Machines streaking into the sky; he thought that a couple were actually on fire.

  “Oh dear God in heaven.” Bella sounded exhausted. “Stand down, Infil. Most of the remaining Thulians are either running or surrendering. CCCP can mop up the rest…I think ECHO had better concentrate on holding the Russian wolves off the ones surrendering if we want to collect any intel from prisoners.”

  “We did it,” Bulwark said, sounding as if he didn’t quite believe it. John nodded, then swayed on his feet. He collapsed to his knees, the world around him spinning and going dark.

  Where There Is Light

  Mercedes Lackey and Cody Martin

  I didn’t find out about any of this until long after—like most of what went on between Johnny and the Seraphym. I’m just as glad…because what in hell would I have been able to do? This wasn’t a hack, and that sort of power…

  Let’s just say it is way above my pay-grade. In the astronomical sense.

  Seraphym had left him as long as she could. This was important to him, to his decision. Though it had cut her and flayed her with pain, she refrained from interfering so that he could earn what he needed.

  A victory.

  She looked up at Bella; linked closely as they were, Bella felt it too. She nodded. Before she had finished, Sera was already gone.

  Traveling as fast as thought, she was at his side. She felt the shock, then the awe, of those who saw her, but these things were not important.

  He was.

  She scooped him up in her arms, wrapped him in her wings, and they were gone.

  * * *

  It was not often that she…well, she supposed that mortals would call what she did “teleportation” although that was not it exactly. It was more that she held still and let the world move…but she didn’t do it often. She had, the day of the Invasion. She did, occasionally, when she almost had to be in two places at once.

  But she did so now. She folded herself and him inside time and space and unfolded them in his squat, letting him down on the mattress on the floor, then kneeling beside him and pouring life-force back into him. It was altogether like pouring water into a bucket that had very little bottom left.

  John was ragged. His face was covered in ash, dirt, and a horrifying amount of blood. His stealth uniform was similarly covered, and he looked like the walking dead. His complexion was growing more and more pale, and he had stopped sweating; this was not a good sign for someone as sick as he was. John was conscious, if only barely; he was fighting for every moment, soon every breath.

  She simply thought things into existence; a cool cloth to clean his face with, a cold glass of water to hold to his lips. When she had done everything she could do to make him physically comfortable, she simply took him in her arms and held him, cradled him, while she waited for some sort of equilibrium to happen. This was the crisis. He couldn’t last past dawn. He looked up at her with glazed eyes, tried to speak.

  Shh. Just think. I will hear it.

  John, holding onto his stubbornness even now, chose to speak aloud. Each word was a struggle, with long pauses in between sentences; his sickness had particularly affected his lungs. “We did all right, didn’t we? Got ’em good?”

  She brushed damp hair out of his eyes. “You did, beloved. Every…what is it? Every mission goal accomplished. You did not even lose any team members.”

  He nodded, a small part of him comforted by her assurance. “I’m glad. It won’t be enough though. Not just today, alone.”

  “This is at most a beginning.” She knew he would not thank her to be any less than honest. And he knew this, already; this was no attempt on her part to influence his decision. It was, at most, verification. And that was critical. This had to be his own decision, with no outside influence from her. That had been made very clear to her.

  It had been made clear to her…but it was also a choice. You, too, have Free Will, Seraphym. This was new and dangerous ground. In all this time, it had never occurred to her that she had such a thing, could make such a choice. Could make a wrong choice.

  Could make the sort of choice that had led to some of her Siblings becoming the Fallen.

  But he was at his weakest, and for her to exert that kind of influence…that would be Wrong. Terribly wrong. If he chose against his own nature to please her…then he would not be, or not become, whatever it was he needed to be. Assuming he made the choice for life. And if he did not?

  It was tempting to think of this as a test. But the Infinite did not test anyone; circumstances might test and try someone, but these were not tests contrived to weigh and measure them, to see if they passed or failed. The Infinite, which saw all things, which saw the paths that she could not, would not force a path. And perhaps John, despite their love, would choose to die. And she would continue here, the Instrument, and try to find a new path. That would be his choice, and she, as Instrument of the Infinite, would honor it. That was the truest, best face of love; that one honored the choices of another. So the Infinite showed its love for its creations, by honoring their choices.

  Even, especially, when the choice hurt more than she had believed until now was possible.

  Tears slipped down her face. She let them. “I think you will see the sun rise, beloved…but not more. It is time for you to choose.” The room was slowly falling into darkness; she was the only light in it. It was dusk, here in Atlanta. His eyes were locked with hers, as if he was taking strength just from looking at her, concentrating fiercely, as if her face was the last thing he would ever see.

  He was still struggling for breath. “I choose life, and you’re cut off from everything you’ve ever known. Somethin’ bigger than I could imagine.” He paused, trying desperately to compose himself. “I die…an’ that’s a different sorta loss, isn’t it?”

  “Yes,” she replied, softly, sadly. “I will be alone, without you. I…I knew of love, but you…” She could not articulate what she meant. Not without putting pressure on him. “I love you. And you will go on, somewhere.” She thought a moment. “I have never been mortal. While I have knowledge of mortals, of mortality, I do not understand it. Here.” She put his hand over her heart. “I know, but I do not feel, except when I live for a moment in the thoughts of a mortal. But that is only an instant, and then it is gone. And I do not have that understanding of how you think. What decisions you might make, in the absence of knowledge of the futures. By myself there might come a time when that knowledge…where the cost of continuing to fight is more than mere mortals are willing to pay. How long does one fight in chains when there is nothing in the future but more chains?” She shook her head slightly. “I am not saying this well.”

  “Well, if you ain’t got freedom, what’s the point in livin’? Does that cover it?” He coughed, harsh and rasping, into his hand.

  She nodded. “I think, something like that. And I do not think—no, I know that as I am, I cannot tell when that point has come. Nor can I make that decision, not even for one person, much less a world.” She sighed. “But I will have to try. I accepted the task to be an Instrument.
It is my duty, and it can only be taken from me, I cannot give it up. That is my nature. Without that, I would not be what I am, what you love.”

  John thought on this. He still had duty. He had his comrades in the CCCP that depended upon him. There were the people of his neighborhood, as well. A long time ago, it seemed, he’d also taken an oath to defend his country, from enemies “foreign and domestic.” John wasn’t quite sure where the Thulians fell in that continuum. Overall, he had a duty to see through this conflict and make sure that people made it. Humanity. If nothing else, that there were still free and somewhat happy people to continue on. And, failing that, he still had his own wrongs that, while they couldn’t be righted, might be able to be corrected for in the grand equation.

  And then there was Sera. He had found happiness, again, in his own way. Happiness with her. It was something he’d been missing for years on end. Years of nothing but disgust, self-loathing, and unrelenting fear and rage. To be with Sera…it was something he wasn’t sure he was ready to give up.

  “Darlin’?” John suppressed a cough, looking hard into Sera’s eyes.

  She returned his gaze for a long moment, then brushed her lips across his forehead. “Beloved.”

  “Let’s sleep on it. I figure it’ll be a nice sunrise, anyways.” And, without any further prompting, John Murdock passed out.

  She held him close. She could not tell what he was thinking. She was not sure she wanted to. Tears continued to slip slowly down her face as she wrestled with yet another new emotion: anguish. It was not only for herself, it was for—well—everything. John was important, she knew only that, and not how or why. And so far, the only paths out of the disaster unfolding had him on them at the end of them. And oh, she loved him for himself and for that alone, she would have been willing to sacrifice herself to make him live again, but the greater burden, the greater responsibility, was her duty. It was a duty not just to this world alone, but to many. Thousands. The Universe. And she knew, that as she had chosen to trust and not to Fall, if it came to a choice between him and that duty, she sacrifice herself and her love for the duty. Even though her heart would shatter over it, and never mend again. Wasn’t there a poem that said, “I could not love thee half so much, loved I not honor more”?

  Part of that duty…part of that duty was upholding Free Will at the cost of her own happiness. Even if it meant groping blindly for another path to safety for the worlds.

  Even if it meant her heart was broken for that as well.

  In the end, all she could do was to hold him, weep, cling to each moment that passed, because this might be the last that she would have, hope the dawn took forever to arrive and know that it was coming and she could not stop it.

  * * *

  Atlanta seemed still, for once, when John awakened. The sun was cresting over buildings, unobstructed by smoke or dust or the machines of invaders. The sunlight filled the room, illuminating his entire squat. In the center, seeming to catch the light itself, was the Seraphym. She was as still as a statue, in a way no human could manage. Those strange eyes of hers never blinked, never looked away from his. She had probably been like this all night, holding him, watching him, never moving, never tiring. It just drove home to him again, how much she would be losing—how her life would change completely—if he took that gift of life she offered.

  John, still sweating coldly, managed to crack a smile. “Mornin’.”

  “Good morning, beloved,” she said, so softly her words could not have traveled to any ears but his. “It is time. Beloved…not choosing will be a choice, now.”

  He coughed fitfully, struggling to breathe. “I was afraid of that.” He carefully craned his neck around, peering at the room. “Should we do this on the roof? Wouldn’t wanna lose my security deposit.”

  She shook her head. “I dare not move you.”

  “Love,” he shifted, obviously in pain, in order to stand up. “You might be the Immovable Object, but I’m gonna try to be the Unstoppable Force. Or, y’could just help me stand up.”

  With a sigh of resignation, she helped him stand. But before he could demand to walk to the roof, she folded wings about him and folded space itself, taking them both to the rooftop, facing the rising sun. And she still did not know what his choice would be,

  John looked out over the city again. “When y’get down to it…it’s not that bad of a town.”

  “The soul of the city is people, beloved. Where there are good people, the city is as good as it can be.”

  He nodded. “I suppose…that you’re right. I just hope that our people…can make it.” He looked into her eyes; there was still the same intensity there, even with him being so close to death. “Sera?”

  She freed a hand from supporting him to touch his face. “Whatever befalls…I will be here. I will find a way.”

  “Just wanted to let you know…that I love ya. And I’m scared.” He collapsed into her arms bodily. His thoughts opened to her in those very last moments, and she knew his choice instantly.

  Yes, Seraphym. It is permitted. Goodbye, beloved child. Only true death will bring you Home again.

  It was not just life-force she poured into him. It was all that she had, all that she was.

  In all of space and time, this had never happened before. That one Immortal should give all that she had to save a mortal. This was out of all accounting, and changed…everything.

  The few people who happened to be out at this time of the morning were the only physical witnesses to what the news later called a “meteorological phenomena,” and attributed it either to some failed Thulian ploy or an ECHO experiment.

  In actuality, it was, in miniature, a recreation of a moment.

  Fiat lux.

  “Let there be Light.”

  A soundless explosion of light blossomed atop that roof. It left no trace of itself, except that when dazzled eyes cleared, there was no trace of John Murdock or the Seraphym.

  But those who were attuned to the Infinite, and those who were attuned to magic, felt the Cosmos ring like a giant bell, not just in Atlanta, but all over the world. The reverberations disrupted countless calculations and conjurations, leaving them in new patterns.

  For this had never happened before. One that had been mortal was reborn. And one that had been spirit was given flesh, and her powers were divided between them. To have a miracle, something miraculous had been sacrificed, and so the Laws were kept unbroken.

  * * *

  Vickie jumped straight up out of her bed, instantly awake. She had gone from sleeping to on her feet, jarred out of REM sleep by what had felt like about a million volts of electricity hitting her.

  Something had happened. Something—huge—

  Grey had also been startled awake, every hair on his body standing straight out, a giant puffball of a cat. ::Your workroom! Your workroom!:: he shouted in her head. Just that; it seemed that was all he could manage to articulate. She stumbled out of her bedroom, across the hall, and yanked open the door of her magical workroom, feeling very much as if every hair on her body was standing straight up.

  As she wrenched the door open, the light that had clearly been flooding the room was just starting to fade. At the center of that light, in the center of her Circle of Power, was…a body.

  A naked body. A female naked body. With scarlet hair and scarlet and gold wings.

  She stared, licked her lips, as the body began to move. “S-Seraphym?” she stammered hoarsely.

  The head moved, the red hair falling away from her face. A pair of the bluest eyes that Vickie had ever seen stared up at her. The lips parted, and a soft, sad voice said—

  “Not…anymore.”

  * * *

  Pavel—the Once-Great Soviet Bear—was spending his off hours in his usual fashion; in the CCCP break room, watching soap operas and drinking vodka strong enough to degrease an engine. His clumsy mechanical feet were crossed and propped up on a wooden cabbage crate. This particular soap opera was one of his favorites; “One Sto
plight To Love,” following the quirky and melodramatic antics of a couple of police officers and their families.

  Pavel was about to take a swig from his vodka when he felt something happening. It took him a moment to realize that the plasma chamber revolving in his chest in the place of a heart had sped up by several dozen RPMs. “Schto?”

  There was a flash of intense flame and a snap-boom, scattering paper waste and bottles around the room. When the spots cleared from his eyes, Pavel could see a naked figure sprawled on the carpet in front of him. He then looked to the television. An ancient TV set that had seen the moon landing, the Berlin Wall being torn down, and survived being handled by Chug, sputtered, and then died with a small puff of smoke.

  “Nasrat.” Pavel pounded the set. It did not spring to life.

  “Supposing I will have to be reporting to Commissar, now. Naked man in room, too. Double Nasrat.”

  * * *

  Bella probably shouldn’t have been here, but the Echo debriefing wasn’t until noon, so—hell with it. She was by-god going to sit in on the CCCP one, since she’d taken over for Vick at the tail end of the infil op. And anyway, this way she knew that Saviour would get everything.

  Unter finished his debrief right up to the point where Vick passed out. Bella picked it up from there. “…so when I got her conscious she told me she’d neutralized some sort of super-death-machine by it almost a mile into the ground. I dunno, I’m not inclined to send ECHO down there to look for it unless you’re in favor, Nat.”

  Red Saviour shook her head. “Later maybe. Are being have enough on plate. We are having leads?”

  “Da. But my people and Tesla and Marconi haven’t got done with what the infil team extracted yet. Cross your fingers…I think we’re going to have the location of their HQ when we’re done.”

  Saviour let out a breath that she had clearly been holding in. “Then…da. Was worth ten times over, the co—”

  Bella felt it. They all felt it. It wasn’t physical, but whatever it was…it might as well have been. Like a body-blow that doesn’t hurt. Except that in Bella’s case—it did. She doubled over with the anguish of it, of something…vital…taken. And yet, it wasn’t something that had been taken from her.