A Sorrow Fierce and Falling (Kingdom on Fire, Book Three)

by Jessica Cluess

  “Howel. Do you ever tire of being exactly on time?”

  There were a dozen ways I could have answered him, but all possible words fled my mind. Magnus was…different. Not to say that he’d grown taller, that his voice or features had shifted. All I could do was compare him to, well, himself.

  In London, I’d known him as a smiling, foolhardy boy. After his mother’s death, he’d grown even more reckless than before. At Sorrow-Fell, he’d been broken, and looking to break things in return.

  Now his mass of auburn curls had been cut, military style. His square jaw was clean-shaven. He’d found a tailored uniform that properly fit the great width of his shoulders. His brass buttons gleamed from attentive polish, same as his boots. He had always been tall, but I had never before noticed how straight he could stand. Magnus’s gray eyes warmed as he beheld me, but there was hard-bitten knowledge in his gaze as well. Those were his maps on the table, the wooden figures placed by his strategic hand. He held Georgiana with the air of an expert. This was the captain’s tent, and he inhabited it fully.

  I understood what about him had stolen my breath away: Magnus the boy had been charming and handsome; Magnus the man was a force all his own.

  “Howel? Are you well?” He appeared concerned by my silence.

  Clearing my throat, I managed to make a reply. “I’m afraid war makes punctuality a necessity.”

  “There. I knew you’d put me in my place with a single word.” He gave a sly wink, and my cheeks flamed. But I felt a rising excitement as well, as though someone were leading me into a dance that I loved.

  “Don’t sell yourself short. It took more than one word.” I calculated. “Seven, I believe.”

  Magnus laughed, which made Georgiana squirm. He held the baby out to me.

  “This one believes toffees will solve all our problems. What I get for making an infant my chief of staff.”

  I gave Georgiana my finger, which she took in a tight-fisted grip.

  “I’d ask to see the magical petticoat, but I believe that’s improper conduct.” Magnus placed Georgiana in a makeshift cradle near his desk. “Awful good luck to come upon you when we did.”

  “Yes.” I wasn’t certain it was luck, though. It seemed too great a coincidence that I’d thought of Magnus and arrived mere minutes from his door.

  I decided not to tell him this. It mightn’t be, well, proper.

  “Did you see them out there?” Magnus strode to the entrance and opened the tent flap, gesturing out at the crowds. “They’re flocking to us now. We found some more coming from the north and took them in. You know sorcery’s great defect?” He closed the flap. “We’ve believed ordinary men and women to be useless. At best, they’re merely in the way, at worst they’re cattle for us to rescue.” He shook his head. “They’re the foundation of our society. We sorcerers are not engineers, or farmers, or tradesmen. We’ve sat back upon our magic for so long, we’ve ignored the more modern aspects of the age.”

  I nodded, understanding what he meant. While the sorcerers had hid behind a ward, or the magicians had congregated to commiserate and lick their wounds, the common people had been working to survive. They’d fed and shod and clothed one another, fixed wagons, created weapons. What had we to offer in return? Wind and rain. The warping of a ray of sunshine. A tongue of fire to warm the night.

  Sorcery was not the future of England. Perhaps it never had been.

  “Now tell me,” Magnus said, guiding us toward the table. “Where is Blackwood? What’s happened at Sorrow-Fell?”

  My heart sank at his blissful ignorance.

  “R’hlem’s taken it,” I murmured. By the time I’d finished relaying the story, I was on the verge of throwing up. The memory of R’hlem striding up that path was too much.

  “Why didn’t Blackwood escape with you?” Magnus seemed genuinely puzzled. Face burning, I looked at my hands.

  “We were separated. Besides, we had a falling-out.”

  “Why? I thought he was poetically, madly in love.” Magnus leaned back in his chair, frowning. “Something terrible must have happened.”

  Unfortunately, I could not think of how to lie. So I told the truth.

  “He blamed me for bringing Maria to Sorrow-Fell.” At that, Magnus’s eyes narrowed. “We had a rather…painful conversation.”

  “Why are you fidgeting like this?” Magnus laid his hand on top of mine. “Howel, what happened?”

  I readied myself, but when the words came they were a stutter. “He c-called me a slut.” I whispered the last word, but Magnus understood. He rose to his feet.

  “Why would he say that to you?”

  “Please don’t make me go through the bloody details.”

  I could see that Magnus understood my meaning. He went to study a map on the table, more as an excuse to look away from me than anything else. My face burned. Well, if he couldn’t stand my presence any longer, then I shouldn’t care for his good opinion.

  “So we must assemble an army,” I said. “We have to take Sorrow-Fell back before the equinox.”

  “Of course.” He sounded distracted. I gritted my teeth.

  “I assure you, I’m still capable of being looked at.”

  “What?” He turned, surprised. “Howel, I’m not angry at you. I want to kill Blackwood.” Indeed, a muscle pulsed in the side of his neck as he spoke.

  “Then I don’t disgust you?”

  “Disgust me?” He appeared horrified by the words. “I think I’m the last person on earth to judge you for something like that. This insipid idea that a woman’s worth is based on something so…insignificant.” I laughed because I feared I’d cry otherwise.

  “May I see the queen?” I asked, changing the subject. There was more to do, and more plans to make. We needed to begin as soon as possible.

  “Of course. She’s anxious to meet with you. You know, she’s quite a bit stronger than I’d have imagined, given her upbringing. She can outride—” Magnus’s voice and smile died. “Howel. Something’s happening with the shadows.”

  Oh God. No.

  From the corners of the tent, the darkness crept forward. I felt that tug again at the back of my mind, the whisper of the word master. Rook began to unfurl himself, one tendril at a time. He’d tracked me, as he’d said he would. I was so relieved to see him unharmed, but he was appearing in Magnus’s tent…

  And Magnus had promised that one of them would die.

  “It’s just my shadow abilities,” I said, trying to stand in front of Rook. “Sometimes, I…” But I stopped, because I couldn’t lie to Magnus. Not after everything that had happened. “I’m sorry,” I amended, shielding Rook with my body. “We found him in the enemy’s camp. He’s changed, Magnus. He’s not the same as the night when—”

  Magnus whipped out his stave, his features tightening with hate.

  “You.” The word was venomous. He cut a blade with one thought. Rook finished forming, remaining crumpled on his knees.

  “I beg for mercy,” he whispered, gazing up at Magnus with mournful dark eyes.

  “Denied.” Magnus gave a fearsome cry and attacked.

  Rook dissolved into shadow as Magnus swung his stave. Magnus pivoted expertly, snatching fire from the candles upon his desk and hurling them at Rook. The flame sprayed over Rook’s protective black cloak. Georgiana sobbed in her cradle, throwing Magnus off balance for a brief moment.

  Rook returned to his human form. Holding out his hands, he said, “I have no desire to fight.”

  Magnus responded with a burst of fire, flattening him on the ground.

  “Stop!” I cried, placing myself between the two.

  Magnus bared his teeth. The kind, understanding young man had vanished before my eyes. “How could you bring him here?”

  “It wasn’t his fault, Magnus.”

  “How d
o you figure that?” Magnus tried to step around me to get at Rook.

  “My father was controlling him!” There.

  Magnus froze. “Your father?” he asked, bewildered.

  Rook lay there, his hands up to Magnus. Dried blood darkened the lines of his palms.

  “Please,” he whispered, but his voice focused Magnus on the task at hand. With a sweep of his stave, he shot more fire. The blow landed, and Rook hissed in pain. My master, my master is hurt. The bastard has struck him. The fiend! Darkness closed over my mind, and my instincts were animal.

  Snarling, I pounced upon Magnus, who tossed me to the earth rather easily. In response, I set my flames on him. Magnus backed away with a curse. Rook placed himself before me and loosened his invisible hold on my mind. Blinking, I felt myself fall back under control.

  “Please,” Rook gasped. “I won’t be able to keep her from fighting you.”

  “Because you’ve made her your slave!” Magnus roared. I placed my arms about Rook’s neck. I felt the tension in his shoulders, the throbbing heat of a scar below my hand. Magnus looked the picture of righteous fury.

  “If you want to take your revenge,” Rook said gently, “I will not stop you.”

  Both Magnus and I stilled.

  “In fact, you’d be doing me the greatest favor,” Rook breathed, loosening my hands. He stayed on his knees before Magnus. “No mortal man should bear this burden. I hate what I am.” His voice wavered. “After I changed at Lady Eliza’s party, I had no control over my actions, but I saw everything. It was a living nightmare, what I did to your mother.” He lowered his head. “You’ve more a right to kill me than anyone.”

  “You don’t know what you’re saying,” I said, gripping his arm. Magnus advanced upon Rook.

  “This is a trick.” He’d summoned more flame, which he balanced on the tips of his fingers. Rook did not move.

  “Please. If you wish to end me, do so now. Every moment, I feel my mind unraveling. R’hlem calls me. Even my connection with Nettie cannot change that.”

  Magnus stalked forward. “No. Fight back, you…you monster.” But Rook dropped his chin to his chest.

  “I won’t.”

  Magnus stood over Rook with the fire burning in his hand. I was prepared to do battle, but Rook held up his clawed hand to stop me. My muscles tensed as I obeyed.

  Magnus extinguished the fire. He strode over to the table, breathing heavily, and threw one of the chairs to the ground. The chair splintered, and Magnus stalked out of the tent.

  “I am sorry.” Rook laid his head briefly upon my knee. I smoothed his fine flaxen hair. There, now. We were safe and together, my master and I. Then, in a low voice, he said, “The one to kill me, Nettie, will have to be you.”

  I was so shocked that I stood. Rook gazed up at me. “What do you mean?”

  “Exactly what I say. You’re the one with the power to do it.” His clawed hand touched mine. “You promised, Nettie. You promised to save me.”

  I was fully myself now, and amazed that he could suggest such a thing. “Rook, no. You’re tired. You don’t know what you’re saying.” I took his face in my hands. His cheeks were ice cold beneath my touch. “You need to hold on for just a little while longer. Mickelmas and I will find a way back. Don’t worry.” Kneeling down, I kissed his cold forehead.

  Rook sighed and pushed me away. “I knew you would not listen.”

  “I’ll listen to reason,” I said, growing crosser by the minute. “No more talk of killing. Do you understand?”

  “Very well.” Rook sounded resigned as he stood. “Till later, then.” Soundlessly, he disappeared into the shadow of the tent. As he vanished, I felt the final pressure on my mind dissipate. I was all right now.

  Honestly, I couldn’t believe what Rook had asked. It was madness to even consider.

  Dazed, I followed Magnus outside. He remained in front of the tent with his hands plunged in the pockets of his coat.

  “Thank you,” I murmured. “I didn’t think he’d, well, turn up like that.”

  “I know,” he growled, closing his eyes. Then, “What did you mean about your father?”

  There were a million subtle and intricate ways to begin, but the simplest answer came tumbling out. “R’hlem is my father.” He gave me his full attention. “I know you may not believe—”

  “No, I do. Strangely, it makes sense.” His expression remained inscrutable, but he opened the tent flap once more and ushered me inside. We moved back to the table. I sat on a stool, and Magnus righted the splintered chair and sat across from me, wincing when the broken thing groaned. “Remind me not to break furniture in the future. Well, then. Go on.” He gestured for me to continue.

  “Would you like the full story?”

  “That would be a fine place to start,” he said, not unkindly. As I told him, he listened, only stopping to ask for clarity. There was no judgment and no disgust. He was curious, and above all, he was sympathetic.

  “You never run out of surprises, Howel.” Leaning back, he smiled. “What do you propose we do now?”

  “The only way back to Sorrow-Fell is with an army. Witches and magicians will be the strongest magical resources we have now.” Indeed, sorcerers were practically an extinct species. “Any news on possible covens?”

  “There are supposed to be groups of wild women that roam the highlands.” He helped me to my feet and placed my cloak around me. “Some of the men we’ve picked up have told of ladies who dance naked by moonlight and ride the wind on pine branches. I’ve had the forests scouted, but no one’s returned with anything substantive. As for magicians, there’s that Alice girl you used to save the queen.” He smiled. “She’s been a great help. Shifting is a marvelous talent, don’t you think? We’ve used her to locate a few other magicians. One of them’s a lady with a bottle for a leg. Most ingenious. As for getting more, I suppose we might ask Mickelmas. He’s got his own tent farther into camp. Apparently, he’s a bit of a troublemaker.”

  “How unusual,” I said flatly. “Perhaps I should speak with him.”

  “That was my very thought.”

  It occurred to me as Magnus and I walked out of the tent (after calling for Georgiana’s nurse, of course) that he hadn’t negotiated who was to do what. He hadn’t asked me to stand behind him, or stay silent. My involving myself with his plans didn’t seem to bother Magnus in the slightest.

  It was rather welcome, actually.

  We walked through the camp. To my vast relief, I caught sight of Lilly as she went from tent to tent. She carried a tray laden with bandages, and when she saw me she threw the thing aside. We embraced, and her arms crushed the breath from my body. Lord, for such a little thing she was absurdly strong.

  “Arthur told me you’d been found. I couldn’t believe it.” She squeezed tighter.

  “I’m difficult to kill.” Though if Lilly kept hugging me like this, she might manage it. When she let me go, she stooped to pick up the fallen bandages.

  “Was about to go up to the tent and get you. That funny magician’s looking for you,” she told me.

  “Indeed, it would appear the funny magician’s now located you.” Mickelmas swept out of his tent, unfurling himself like a velvet cloak taken out for the winter. He wore a dirty jacket with a spotted shirt underneath but fussed with the sleeves as though they were the most elegant attire. “I believe I’ve something you could use, my cheerful duck.” He crooked a finger. “Follow me. We’ll need space for this trick.”

  “More tricks,” Magnus sighed, shaking his head. “So long as he doesn’t turn anyone into a talking horse.” He paused. “I mean, if he turned someone into a talking horse I’d laugh. Then I’d ride it around a bit. Then dress it in several hats. Then I’d get him to turn it back to a person.”

  “It worries me that you’ve put so much thought into this,” I said
.

  We followed Mickelmas past the tent city and into the wilderness. My teeth chattered as a freezing wind sliced by. Mickelmas snapped his fingers.

  “Bit cold, don’t you find? If you could set a cozy fire, it might help.”

  Grumbling, I did as he asked, circling flame all about us.

  “Much better. Now, time for a pinch of magic. I managed to keep this safe from old…well, from R’hlem,” Mickelmas said, eyeing Magnus carefully. He was trying to be cautious, which I appreciated. Unfolding a paper he’d tucked into a tiny, tiny pocket of his jacket—I’d have asked how but remembered his remarkable powers for molding himself into the smallest of places—Mickelmas handed it to me. “Be a lamb and hold this open while I work.”

  It was a circle of runes, so complicated and intricate that my mind boggled the first moment I beheld it. It resembled a labyrinth of ink scratches and nonsense letters. There were squiggles, and wobbly arrows, spirals and dots. Magnus and I guided Mickelmas as he carved the runes into the snow. It was tricky. The spirals dipped into swirls, and jagged, crawling lines gave way to graceful arabesques. Finally, Mickelmas finished his writing, and we stood back to stare at the circle.

  “Don’t we need a solstice or an equinox to open a portal?” I asked. Mickelmas shook his head as he rolled his sleeves.

  “For greater phenomena, such as tearing open the fabric of reality and letting monstrosities through, solstices and equinoxes are lovely. But for mere summonings, any old time will do. So long as you’ve got an unused spurt of blood lying about, that is. That’s the stuff with which people are always reluctant to part, but you can’t make pudding without opening a vein.”

  “Is that how it goes?” Magnus walked about the circle and whistled in admiration. “Sir, you’re quite brilliant.”

  “Well, it was either be brilliant or work very hard. Brilliance takes less effort.” Mickelmas ushered both of us to one side. “I should warn you, I’ve only the faintest idea of what’s about to happen.”

  “Marvelously reassuring,” I said.

  “Shut up.”