Dark Destiny

by M. J. Putney

  This book is dedicated to my great-nieces, Caroline and Marielle, because they’re the right demographic for these stories!

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My thanks to all the usual suspects, most especially Pat Rice and Susan King for helping me bat this around.

  A special thanks to my fellow Word Wench Nicola Cornick, whose wonderful blog post about “the last invasion of Britain” gave me so many ideas for the plot of Dark Destiny.

  And more thanks to author Sarah Darer Littman for her advice on how Rebecca might have organized a gentile Shabbat.

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Acknowledgments

  Epigraphs

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Author’s Note

  Also by M. J. Putney

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Let us be masters of the Channel for six hours and we are masters of the world.

  —Napoleon Bonaparte, while contemplating an invasion of Britain

  I do not say, my Lords, that the French will not come. I say only they will not come by sea.

  —Admiral Lord John Jervis, Earl of St. Vincent, when he was admiral of the Channel Fleet during the Napoleonic Wars

  CHAPTER 1

  Lackland, England, Autumn 1940

  A fighter plane roared menacingly over the farmhouse just as Tory bent to blow out the candles on her birthday cake. She froze—she would never get used to destructive flying machines!

  But she could pretend to be brave. She drew a deep breath and blew. The seventeen candles for her years were easily extinguished, but the one added for luck flickered persistently before guttering out. She hoped that wasn’t an omen.

  Her friends around the table applauded. Those who’d come from 1804 with Tory were enjoying the twentieth-century birthday customs. The five of them would return to their own time in the morning. She was glad to be heading home, but she’d miss her twentieth-century friends.

  “Did you make a wish?” Polly asked. The youngest Rainford, she belonged to this house and this time. Though she was still weak from a bout with blood poisoning that had almost killed her, her mischievous smile had returned.

  “Indeed I did,” Tory replied. “And it was hard to decide what to wish for!”

  Her life had changed so much since she turned sixteen a year ago. Then she had been the well-brought-up Lady Victoria Mansfield, youngest child of the Earl of Mansfield. Most of her thoughts had been turned toward her upcoming presentation to society, where she would look for the best possible husband.

  In the year since, she’d become a mageling, an exile, and one of Merlin’s Irregulars, sworn to use her magic to protect Britain. Not to mention being a traveler through time and an unsung heroine of Britain.

  Best of all, she had fallen in love. Her gaze drifted to the young man who sat at her right, looking impossibly handsome. Justin Falkirk, Marquess of Allarde and her beloved. He gave her a smile full of the warmth and intimacy that had grown between them in the last months.

  “Time to cut the cake!” Lady Cynthia Stanton, who was Tory’s roommate back at the Lackland Abbey, was eyeing the dessert hungrily. “Mrs. R., if I come back for my birthday, will you make me a cake like this?”

  “I will,” Anne Rainford, their hostess, said cheerfully. “But give me some warning, please. This cake required almost a month’s worth of our sugar rations. I’ll need to save more coupons to create another cake this size.”

  “You won’t want to take another beastly trip through the mirror just for a cake, Cynthia.” Tory got to her feet so she could cut properly. “But you can have the first piece of this one.”

  The round cake had a thin layer of white icing, and “Happy Birthday, Tory!” was spelled out in rather uneven red letters. The same red icing had been used to draw little red rockets exploding around the edges.

  Tory could have done without the explosions, but Polly had been pleased with herself for coming up with the idea. After all, war had drawn together this group of magelings from two different eras and forged lasting friendships.

  Mrs. Rainford was sitting on Tory’s left, and she held out a small plate to receive the first slice. “Here you are, Cynthia,” Tory said as she set the wedge of dark fruitcake on the plate. Mrs. Rainford handed it across the table.

  “I’m going to have trouble waiting until everyone is served!” Cynthia exclaimed. “I still haven’t recovered from burning so much magic in France.”

  “As the birthday girl, I give you permission to eat now rather than wait for the rest of us,” Tory said grandly. “We all need to eat to build up our strength for the return journey through the mirror.”

  Cynthia didn’t hesitate to dig in her fork. After the first bite, she smiled blissfully. “This is wonderful, Mrs. R. If I didn’t hate traveling through the mirror so much, I really would come back for my birthday. I’d even bring sugar so you could make the cake without using up your rations.”

  “That’s not a bad idea!” Nick Rainford exclaimed. “Sending sugar, I mean. How hard would it be for you to throw sugar through the mirror?”

  “We could do that,” Elspeth replied. “Our sugar comes in big loaves that have to be broken into smaller pieces, but they’d throw very nicely.”

  “Tea and butter and bacon and all kinds of other things are also rationed,” Nick said thoughtfully. “If you can send them through the mirror, we could—”

  “I will not have a black market operation run from my house,” Mrs. Rainford said firmly. She handed another plate of cake to Rebecca Weiss, who was staying with the Rainfords to study magic. “But some sugar now and then would be nice.”

  “We can arrange that,” Allarde said as he clasped Tory’s hand under the table. She could feel his amusement.

  She bit her lip, thinking how much she would miss this freedom to be together when they returned to Lackland Abbey. Male and female students were strictly separated in the abbey. Only in the Labyrinth, the maze of tunnels below the abbey buildings, could they work together as they secretly studied magic. And only there could she and Allarde have the privacy they craved.

  “What is a black market?” Tory asked as she cut more slices.

  “Illegally selling rationed goods, and Nick would dive right in if I let him,” Mrs. Rainford said with a laugh.

  She laid her hand on Tory’s, but before she could continue, magic blazed from Mrs. Rainford through Tory to Allarde, kindling another blaze of magic from him. Allarde’s hand clamped hard on Tory’s and he exclaimed, “No!”

  “Justin?” Tory said dizzily, shaking as she channeled power and shock between Allarde and her hostess. “What … what just happened?”

  His gaze was unfocused. “I … I saw Napoleon invade England. Barges landing, soldiers pouring off. French soldiers marching past Westminster Abbey.”<
br />
  The Irregulars gasped with horror. The threat of invasion had been hanging over their heads for months as Napoleon Bonaparte assembled an army just across the English Channel from Lackland Abbey. Jack Rainford, one of the 1804 Irregulars, asked, “What makes you say that?”

  Tory felt Allarde’s effort to collect himself. “Mrs. Rainford and I both have foreteller talent, and Tory’s ability to enhance magic seems to have triggered a vision of the future when the three of us were touching.” He glanced at their hostess. “Did you see images of invasion?”

  “I … I saw Napoleon in Westminster Abbey,” Mrs. Rainford said unevenly. “But that was fear, not foretelling! We know from history that Napoleon never invaded.”

  Allarde shook his head. He was still gripping Tory’s hand with bruising force. “I don’t know about your history books. What I saw was an event that may well happen if we don’t act. We need to return home immediately. If and when the invasion takes place, Lackland will be a major landing site.” He swallowed again. “I saw French barges landing in Lackland harbor and soldiers pouring off. The village was burning.”

  Jack Rainford rose from his chair. “My family!”

  “The French are not going to invade!” Mrs. Rainford repeated. “I’ll get a history book and show you.” She left the room, her steps quick.

  Tory took a swallow of tea for her dry throat. Mrs. Rainford was a schoolteacher and well educated, but Allarde’s magic was powerful. “Foretelling is what might happen, not necessarily what will happen, isn’t it?”

  Allarde eased his grip, though he still held her hand. “This felt very, very likely.”

  Mrs. Rainford returned with a textbook. As she thumbed through the pages, she said, “There’s a chapter about how close Napoleon came to invading, but he didn’t.” She found the chapter she was looking for and caught her breath, her face turning white.

  Tory peered at the book and saw that the letters on the page were twisting and flickering like live things. The words couldn’t be read.

  Mrs. Rainford said in a choked voice, “I remember what this chapter said, but … it doesn’t say that anymore.”

  “The text being in flux here suggests that the history isn’t set,” Allarde said grimly. “Perhaps Napoleon just made the decision to launch and that’s why we had the visions. If the Irregulars can do something to prevent the invasion, that might be why history records say that it didn’t happen.”

  “If the past has changed, wouldn’t the present also be different?” Rebecca, raised by two scientists, frowned as she tried to puzzle it out.

  “Time travel is a mystery, and I don’t pretend to understand how it works,” Jack said, as grim as Allarde. “But there is danger at home and to my family. I can feel it like a gathering storm.”

  Elspeth, the fifth Irregular, rose. “We need to leave right away. We haven’t much to pack.”

  Ever practical, not to mention hungry, Cynthia said, “We should take the rest of the cake. It will help us recover from the mirror passage.”

  Knowing that was true, Tory tried to eat her slice, but it tasted like straw. She and the other Irregulars had faced the dangers of war here in 1940, but her own time, her home and family, had not been threatened. Not until now.

  “I’ll pack the cake and some cheese,” Polly said briskly.

  As the party dissolved, Nick caught Tory’s gaze and said with deadly seriousness, “You’ve done so much for England in my time. If there is anything, anything, that I can do to help, send a message through the mirror and I’ll come instantly.”

  “You saved my whole family,” Rebecca said in her soft French accent. “I have only just discovered that I have magic, and I don’t know how to use it. But I pledge everything within my power to your service.”

  Tory thanked them, but she realized with cold foreboding that even if all the Irregulars and their 1940 friends worked together, they were few and the French were many. The Irregulars might not be able to save England.

  CHAPTER 2

  Tory had come through the mirror with almost no possessions, so packing was quick. Allarde was waiting for her in the front hall of the Rainford farmhouse, his gray eyes haunted. Silently she took his hand, feeling how upset he was by his vision of invasion. Foretelling was not a comforting gift.

  When the others joined them, they set off to the ruins of Lackland Abbey. Everyone came except Polly, who wasn’t yet strong enough to walk that far. There was little talk. Jack and Cynthia also held hands. Since the village of Lackland was Jack’s home and all his family was there, he was even more tense than the other Irregulars.

  Here in 1940, it was autumn and darkness fell early. The cool night air carried the drone of distant engines as Nazi aircraft crossed the English Channel to bomb London. The attacks had been continuing for months and London hadn’t broken yet, but Tory had seen pictures of the staggering destruction. Bombs had fallen here in Lackland, but only by accident, since a small fishing village wasn’t a worthwhile target.

  Weapons in her own time were not so devastating, but they were bad enough. Napoleon Bonaparte had become first consul of France and ruler of most of Europe because he was a brilliant and ruthless general. Tory shivered at the thought of France conquering England and Bonaparte swaggering through Westminster Abbey.

  In Tory’s time, Lackland Abbey was the school where Tory and her friends had been sent to be “cured” of their magical abilities. In this time, the abbey that she knew had been reduced to rubble by German bombs. Nick Rainford had had to dig a new entrance to the time portal they called Merlin’s Mirror.

  Once she descended belowground to the chalk tunnels they called the Labyrinth, Tory felt the tug of the mirror’s powerful energy. She had a special affinity for the mirror’s magic, so she acted as guide when she and her friends moved through the portal from one time to another. She brightened her mage light so she could pick her way through tunnels cluttered with fallen stones.

  The group entered the chamber that held the mirror, and Tory mentally greeted it. The ancient, powerful energy had a kind of awareness, and it recognized her. She thought of it as a distant but rather benevolent uncle that approved of her efforts.

  She drew a deep breath. “We need to go back to a time shortly after Jack and Cynthia and Elspeth came through the mirror. I think you said you came to join us two days after Nick and Allarde and I were pulled through?”

  Elspeth nodded. “It was late at night, after a study session of all the Irregulars. You’ll probably want to add half a day to be sure we return later than we left.”

  “Time to say our good-byes, then.” Tory’s smile was crooked. “I hate good-byes.”

  Her great gray eyes solemn, Rebecca gave Tory a swift, fierce hug. “To say thank you is not strong enough.”

  Tory hugged her back. They’d shared a perilous adventure in France that had brought them close. “When we’ve made it safely home, we’ll send a message stone back to you here. Please send message stones about how your family is doing in Oxford. I know you’ll miss them.”

  Rebecca stepped back. “I do, but they are safe and so are my father’s research assistants and their families. They will work hard to help create the miracle medicine.”

  Anne Rainford gave the next hug. “Be careful, Tory. Don’t let Allarde and Jack kill themselves by being too heroic.”

  Tory sighed. “I’ll try, but they are both entirely too noble.”

  Nick hugged her last. He was her first friend in the twentieth century, the person who found her when she’d fallen through the mirror into another time and was alone and terrified. “If you need me, send a message and I’ll be back.” He grinned. “I’d like to visit 1804 and be able to leave the Labyrinth rather than stay there like a rat in a maze.”

  “If you’re needed, we won’t hesitate to call,” she promised. “You owe me a considerable debt for hauling me through the mirror to France!”

  “I do indeed.” His glance touched Rebecca before moving back to Tory. “We
all work well together. Surely we can stop a French invasion.”

  “I hope so.” She squeezed his hand, then turned to the Irregulars. The farewells were finished and it was time to leave. Using her intuition to balance their energies, she said, “Jack, take my hand. Then Cynthia, Allarde, and Elspeth.”

  Silently they linked hands. Tory closed her eyes and tuned herself to the energies of her friends, feeling each like a distinct chord of music. Jack, teasing but utterly reliable, and the best weather mage in Britain. Cynthia, prickly and wounded, but healing. Allarde, whose power and strength were as deep as the earth. Elspeth, a wise, compassionate healer with the delicacy and silver blond hair of a fairy sprite.

  When she was satisfied, Tory stretched her free hand to the mirror, visualizing the time she wanted to return to. A safe half day after her friends had followed them to France. Then she opened her mind to the deep, pulsing power of the mirror. It shimmered into burning silvery life. “Now!”

  The mirror turned black and she led her friends into chaos.

  * * *

  As Tory prepared her friends for the journey, Rebecca shrank back against the cold chalk wall, instinctively recoiling from the fierce energy of the mirror. Her one passage through the portal had been short, from France to England without changing times, and it had still been fearsome. Like being ripped to pieces, then reassembled.

  At that time, only a week earlier, Rebecca had just discovered that her odd abilities were magic, and she’d found the mirror travel profoundly disorienting. This time the energy was far more powerful, for it was taking her friends almost 140 years into the past.

  Mrs. Rainford also retreated to the wall and put an arm around Rebecca’s waist. Rebecca was grateful for the reassurance, but touching sharpened her awareness of the older woman’s emotions. Mrs. Rainford had foretelling ability, and she was very worried about what the Irregulars would find when they got home.

  Nick stood closer to the mirror, his expression taut. Like Tory, he had mirror magic. He’d made his first passage in a blind, desperate attempt to find help after Tory had returned to her own time. Rebecca was awed by his courage. But he was worried, too; she could feel that even though they weren’t touching.