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

by Jessica Cluess

  “Is everything all right?” I did not like the haunted look in Blackwood’s eyes.

  “Have you even considered what happens if we win?” He turned us toward the edge of the dance; less of a chance to be overheard there. “What happens when the rules of our world are turned on their head?”

  He wasn’t wrong to be concerned. After all, monarchs might come after our queen with precious little regard for the power they wielded. Fitting the reins of English magic into one hand could lead to terrible things.

  But the choice had been to unite or die.

  “When we win, you and I can rewrite the rules together.” I wanted it to sound friendly, but Blackwood flinched.

  “Please don’t speak as if you and I were going to be mere acquaintances. I can’t bear it.”

  “What can I do to help?” He didn’t respond. We both knew what he wanted, and what I couldn’t give.

  “Let me have this last dance.”

  So I did. We danced as we had the night we beat back Callax in London, the night he had spoken of triumph. We danced in silence, as if to commemorate all that had passed between us. What we had loved and hated, longed for and lost in each other.

  When the boys finished playing, Blackwood bowed to me. He kissed my hand one last time and left without another word. I watched him go, until Magnus arrived.

  “How is he?” There was no jealousy in his voice. Rather, he sounded sympathetic. “Never thought I’d pity the Earl of Sorrow-Fell.”

  “I wish he didn’t have to hurt like this,” I said. Magnus held me close while Wolff and Lambe started in on another tune.

  He sighed. “I haven’t danced with you since the night of the commendation ball.” He kissed the side of my head. “But I don’t think this is the time to ask.”

  No. Much as I wanted to dance with him, it wouldn’t have been kind. “Will you walk with me?”

  “Anywhere.”

  We moved across the starlit field. I could sense my shadows standing guard in the forest beyond. We were safe.

  “Look at them.” Magnus gestured at several couples stealing into the trees. “Everyone wants a little privacy tonight. End of the world, and all that.”

  “Come along,” I said lightly, glad he couldn’t see me blush. We stepped off the path and into the forest. We stopped behind a tree, and Magnus kissed me.

  “I’ve dreamed of this for so long,” he whispered.

  I reveled in the strength of him. We scarce drew breath for several minutes; when one of us broke the kiss, the other began again. The kiss was a dance all its own.

  This was possibly our last night to be together. We watched each other, neither sure what the other would do.

  “Would you like to hear something truly idiotic?” He kissed my hand. “I’ve always spoiled everything good in my life by rushing. I want to take the time to do this one thing right.”

  I was giddy with relief. “So do I. Though we’re both fools,” I said.

  “Horrible fools. You know what this means, of course.”

  “What?”

  He smiled, and kissed me once again. “We’ve got to win now.”

  The bleary predawn light rendered the world gray. As the battalions organized, we sorcerers formed several scrying mirrors. From every angle, Sorrow-Fell appeared unaware of our approach. Maria and Fenswick ladled a hot potion down all our throats for strength, but I was too tense to hold on to it. I ended up vomiting behind a tree.

  At a quarter past six, the witches and magicians each rode off in separate directions. I rode at the front of the sorcerers alongside Magnus, Blackwood, Maria, and Mickelmas.

  The last few miles to Sorrow-Fell passed quickly.

  The magical folk did not face this battle alone. Many of the common men, and even some women, had come armed with kitchen knives and clubs, a gun here, a saber there, keepsakes from a grandfather’s war. With the normal human men and women, our final army came to something like twenty-five hundred souls.

  Two thousand magic users. All that was left of a once-great nation. Some of the older sorcerers must have bitterly regretted destroying so many witches and magicians.

  Of the weapons we’d found in Ralph Strangewayes’s house: the bone whistle hung about my neck, Magnus had one of the corkscrew swords and a dagger, and Blackwood’s optiaethis swung by his side. He’d slipped it into a black bag to hide its light.

  My stomach still roiled, but I remained calm. We were as prepared as we knew how to be. I had my weapons and was wearing my aunt’s rune petticoat, now hidden beneath a gray dress the witches had made for me.

  Mickelmas rode up alongside me.

  “You won’t remember your mother. I don’t know if R’hlem ever told you about her.” His voice was tight; it sounded like nerves.

  “My father mentioned her a few times.”

  “I’ve said before how similar you are to your father.” He mopped his brow with a handkerchief. “But you’ve a cooler head than he has, a trait I believe you get from Helena. So remember, you are not only R’hlem’s daughter. You’re Helena Murray’s as well.”

  Then, so briefly I almost doubted it had happened, he reached out and squeezed my shoulder.

  We rode through the black woods, and the barrier to Sorrow-Fell drew closer. My shadows rode alongside us, sheltering a large portion of the sorcerer army. The hidden sorcerers had orders to cut around whatever attacked us and get them from behind. Magnus had asked if I wanted to ride under cover, but I’d said no.

  R’hlem must see me coming.

  Secretly, I worried about this meeting. If R’hlem’s power was stronger than mine, he could regain control of my Familiars. I prayed our plan would hold.

  “Awfully quiet,” Magnus said, which was true. No Familiars or Ancients yet, and that concerned me.

  With a signal, our army pulled to a halt and waited for Magnus’s order to charge. He and I looked at one another, all that we could do in this moment. Surely we could not kiss in the middle of war. Dignity, after all, and propriety—

  “Bloody hell,” he whispered, and leaned over in his saddle. Our lips met once, but that was enough.

  Magnus lifted up his stave. As he did, I saw something coming down the path toward us. Zem, the green-scaled serpent, crawled into view. The ridge on his back was shining purple, his lizard-like gullet bright orange. He regarded us with slitted gold eyes, and steam issued from between his crocodilian teeth. Behind Zem, I heard the rumble of many feet approaching. The enemy had spotted us.

  The final battle had begun.

  Magnus unleashed a stream of fire into the air as the signal.

  Zem belched acid-blue flame. The front line sorcerers threw up wards in front of themselves and their horses; the flames licked around us harmlessly, though the heat made my eyes water.

  Ravens dove from out of the sky, slashing and screeching as they went. I sent some of my Familiars up to meet them. A surprise for those ravens, to fight their own brethren.

  Somewhere above us, On-Tez screamed in anger. She plummeted down, holding her wings close to her body. Crash-landing into a squadron, she crushed half of them beneath her bulk.

  “Keep together!” Blackwood shouted to me, Maria, and Mickelmas. Already, the air was coppery with the smell of blood.

  I blasted fire upward, using my magic to shape it into a grand, blooming rose—my signal, as the sorcerer squadrons moved into place behind the monsters. I raised my hand, calling off my shadows. My Familiars receded, leaving the concealed sorcerers to charge as one.

  The surprise attack was a success, though now we were bottlenecked on the road, caught in a melee of death.

  “Notice me, Father,” I muttered as we crashed harder into the lines.

  The clash of bodies was growing more feverish, and the screams of the dying rang around us. R’hlem had to find me an
d move out into the field. I put the bone whistle to my lips and sent up flame to scorch On-Tez. Cawing, she released her victims and soared higher into the sky.

  As I played the whistle, On-Tez and Zem stilled to listen. Even when the sorcerers began to assault them with blades and torrents of wind and fire, they did not budge. But I couldn’t keep playing forever. And we’d have to jump to the circle eventually. For now, at least, I kept them stupefied, letting the others get in some blows.

  “You should go soon,” Magnus called. He was ahead of me, still on his horse, fighting his way through the mob. My eyes moved with him as he went.

  One of R’hlem’s skinless Familiars rose up out of the crowd, slicing with a dagger. Magnus fell off his horse in a spray of blood.

  I screamed. Gumdrop reared as I leaped off him, shoving my way to Magnus. Please, please, let him be alive.

  “Henrietta!” Mickelmas shouted, falling off his own horse as Zem and On-Tez returned to their senses.

  I found Magnus not ten feet in front of me, crouched on the ground and plunging his blade up into the skinless Familiar’s throat. Black ichor sprayed over him; he turned from it and caught my eye.

  “Go.” Magnus stood, one hand to his face, which was a mask of blood. He’d his stave in one hand. “End this. Go, Howel!”

  Hands grabbed me. Mickelmas shouted in my ear, “We can’t delay.”

  Magnus spun around and parried another Familiar. He got it through the chest with his blade.

  “Go!” he shouted, and disappeared into the carnage. Maria and Blackwood’s hands found me. There was no other choice. Closing my eyes, I pictured the circle: the way the grass waved in the breeze, the bright blue of the sky, the slant of sunlight on the weathered stones. In a heartbeat, the chaos around us evaporated.

  When I opened my eyes again, we were in the center of that eternal summer.

  Thankfully, we were alone. R’hlem had taken the bait and abandoned this place to aid his armies.

  The air buzzed with magic, the sound like a drowsy swarm of bees. Power coated the back of my throat. I felt drunk with it. Mickelmas wheeled about the circle, studying the runes. Maria’s left hand was opening and closing fitfully; Willoughby could not be far away. I had to keep an eye on her.

  “Quickly,” I said, and we began to prepare.

  Blackwood and Mickelmas unloaded wooden stakes and ropes from their packs, hammering the stakes into the ground at the edges of the circle, then hastily tying ropes to them. The ropes were to hold us in place. Mickelmas had not forgotten nearly being devoured by the portal all those years ago. If we couldn’t control it, we wanted to avoid being sucked inside.

  Mickelmas directed us to our respective spots. Within minutes, Maria, Mickelmas, and I were positioned at different points in the circle. Blackwood remained just outside, watching for danger. My eyes were drawn to the black bag at Blackwood’s side; the optiaethis’s call to me had grown stronger as the days had passed.

  Minutes ticked past as we waited for the sun’s zenith. Sweat crawled down my face, but R’hlem did not appear.

  “Prepare yourselves.” Mickelmas took a silver knife, readying to cut his finger. “When it’s noon, I’ll throw blood on the stones. Then hold tight.”

  “Shouldn’t we open it sooner?” I asked.

  Mickelmas clucked his tongue. “If we did, it might not take.” He paused. “Or the whole thing could rupture and drag us screaming into hell with it. I might be the nearest thing we have to an expert on these stones, but only in the same way the world’s smartest earthworm is an expert on Copernican heliocentrism.”

  “So we wait,” I said after a pause.

  He nodded. “So we wait.”

  The minutes dragged on. Maria’s hand stopped clenching. She bent her head to her chest, mercifully peaceful. Every second, I feared R’hlem would show and spoil everything. But he did not arrive. Thankfully.

  At last, the sun rose so high that the shadows disappeared. It was time.

  Mickelmas flung his bleeding hand at a stone. As the blood struck, the runes hissed in response. Immediately the air above us warped like a whirlpool. I tasted my heart as the sky began to open.

  Magic pulsed over my skin. I could feel it funneling into me, and it was almost too much to bear. Mickelmas threw out his hands, welcoming the power. I felt some of it siphon away from me and into him. Maria did likewise. I could sense the three of us, bound to one another, helping each other bear the burden.

  The circle grew, and spread…and then stopped.

  The tear in the sky was contained within the circle. Relief weakened my knees, and I exhaled deeply. We’d stabilized it, thank God. I lowered my arms—I hadn’t realized that I’d raised them. It was like a current of energy passing through all three of our bodies. So long as we remained here, we had control.

  “Blackwood. Take out the optiaethis. Don’t open it unless I say,” Mickelmas called.

  “We’ve done it.” I grinned at Maria. She picked up Mickelmas’s blade, which he’d tossed aside.

  “Indeed we have.” That voice. That cold, joyless smile that she gave me. Oh my God.

  “Look out!” My cry came too late. Willoughby lunged at Mickelmas, slicing him down the arm. He fell outside of the circle, yelling in pain. Willoughby leaped after him, laughing wildly as she kicked him again and again in his side. All of the energy funneled back into me, too much to hold. Too much for anyone to hold. My body shook violently, and I bit my tongue so hard that blood flooded my mouth.

  Fight. The word painted itself in my thoughts over and over, in vivid red letters. I had to hold on. I clenched every muscle in my arms and legs, locked my knees. Squeezing my eyes shut, I tried to imagine myself as a bottomless pit into which all this torrential magic could drain. I could hold all of it. I could keep the portal stable. I…

  I couldn’t do this. I fell backward out of the circle, out of the flow of power.

  The vortex overhead roared, and with a massive crack it ripped once more. The portal was fast growing out of control. Cursing, I dug my fingers into the earth and dragged myself out of danger. I could feel it, trying to suck something living up into it.

  “Blackwood, stop her!” I launched flame from my hands to scare Willoughby away. She dodged easily, then threw her knife at me as I prepared another spell. She missed, burying the knife in the ground. When I threw a blast of warded force, desperate to knock her out, she rolled across the grass. Coming up next to me, Willoughby caught at my skirt. When I pulled away, there was a ripping sound.

  My blood went cold as I realized one of Agnes’s runes lay in her hand.

  I wouldn’t be able to transport us out of here now.

  All that kept me from murdering her on the spot was remembering that she shared Maria’s body.

  “You fool! Why—?” I screamed…and then shut up as every muscle in my body tensed. My jaw had locked. The same had happened to Mickelmas, who now lay next to me. Across the circle, I could see that Blackwood had also fallen.

  R’hlem had arrived. Looking over his handiwork, he came to stand over me.

  He had dressed especially nicely for the end of the world, regal in a crimson jacket.

  Willoughby went to him, beaming with pride. With a wave of his hand, my father freed my jaw, though he held the rest of me prisoner.

  “You tried so valiantly, my girl. I’ll never say you didn’t try.” He was so indulgent; it was sickening.

  There was one chance left, and only one. In the shadows just beyond the stones, I could feel my Familiars bristle with indignation. R’hlem was hurting their mistress, after all. They bubbled behind him, a sea of black.

  My jaw was locked, but I was able to whisper through my gritted teeth. It took a few tries, but I managed my order: “Seize him.”

  My shadows surged forward. They went for R’hlem with daggers and
teeth. My father took a few surprised steps back, with Willoughby beside him.

  Then he held out his hands and unleashed the greatest wave of flame I had ever seen.

  They fell at once.

  Seconds later, they all lay smoldering in the grass. A wail of grief lodged in my throat. Tears blurred my vision, tracked down my cheeks. My children, all gone.

  R’hlem snapped his fingers in my direction, and I felt my lips force themselves together. Now I couldn’t even whisper; I could only moan.

  I saw Gwen among the fallen, her sightless eyes closed forever. First R’hlem had broken her mind, and then the bastard had killed her. And he didn’t seem to feel a thing about it.

  The war was over.

  R’hlem turned back to Mickelmas and me. Blackwood he simply ignored.

  “I was going to kill you, my old friend.” He knelt beside Mickelmas and slapped the man’s face. “But I want you to watch. I want you to witness the smile.”

  I keened at the back of my throat, trying to beg him not to do this.

  “Don’t worry,” he said softly, as though guessing my thoughts. “I won’t let the Emperor harm you.”

  The tear in the universe continued to spread. Lying on my back, I glimpsed a barren black sky, devoid of starlight. R’hlem strode to the edge of the circle, Willoughby still flanking him. She stood on tiptoe to look at the void, curious as a child.

  Taking the knife from her, R’hlem cut his hand. He flung droplets of blood into the air, and the circle sucked them up. R’hlem held out his arms, as if to embrace the tear above.

  “Our Emperor will follow the scent of my blood. He will be so pleased with the bounteous world that I offer.”

  Blood was the hinge in the door of reality. I could feel the space around me…expanding.