Of Blood and Bone (Chronicles of The One #2)(36)

“Is that why the sword stays up there, and that cabinet is locked?”

“You’ll hold the sword soon enough. Why haven’t you tried to open the cabinet?”

“How do you know I haven’t?”

He smiled. “I’m not without vision, girl.”

“Fine. Because that would be rude and disrespectful.”

“And you wouldn’t have that understanding and sensibility if you’d been denied the years with your family. They serve you, and will serve you.”

Maybe that was true, she thought. But … “Do you know the place in the first dream?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied.

“There are six more. If destroying the first killed almost everybody, what happens if the others are destroyed?” She had so many questions.

“The first wasn’t broken quickly or easily. It took a great concentration of dark power, and a lack of the light. Beliefs can fade, and when faith pales, so does power. Fears of the dark? They’re intrinsic, and so dark can build. And as it became easier to dismiss the light, it dimmed and the protection around the shield weakened. Just enough. It may have taken this horror to wake the light, to bring it beaming, but it is woken.”

“That doesn’t answer the question,” she complained.

“The shields are now more carefully guarded.”

“But?”

He sighed. A relentless mind, he thought, and had to respect it. “One by one, shield by shield? More would die, infected by a madness, crops would fail until they burned in the field, withered on the vine, rotted in the earth. So famine follows. And a plague runs through the animals. Fish and fowl, mammal. Only what slithers and crawls remains. And the rivers and streams, the lakes and oceans bloated with blood and death and rot become tainted even as they rise up in a flood to spread their poison.”

Already pale, she lost more color as he spoke. But the question deserved a full and true answer.

“And a great heat bakes the earth, burns the trees with lightning striking down forests. The world is fire and smoke. Then the dark descends, and the slaughter of all who remain begins. The ground will shake and split, and what rules the dark rules all.”

“Why? Why?” she demanded. “There’d be nothing left to rule.”

“That is the purpose. All that is light extinguished, all that is good silenced, and all that is hope murdered.”

“That’s just stupid.”

“Then those of us who fight that purpose must be smart.”

She fought to steady herself, to understand. To … not be ignorant.

“So when the shield broke and the Doom killed billions, some people who thought they were just regular people found their magicks. So people would believe again?”

“Faith is a sword and a shield, as long as one bolsters it with courage and brains and muscle. Some who found their magicks turned to the dark, some went mad from it. And some, like your birth father, learned to lead. Like your mother, learned to embrace and build and protect. Some, like those in your vision, learned—magickal and not—how to come together, how to fight, how to work together to help others. A foundation again, for you, The One, to build on.”

She could only sigh. “I can’t even get my stupid brothers to do what I tell them half the time. More than half. How am I supposed to lead everybody?”

“How did you build the hive? With knowledge and skill learned. How did you call the bees? With faith and light and power innate.”

Fallon pushed the tea away. Maybe she felt calmer, but she didn’t feel any smarter, or any more certain.

“I shouldn’t have made the mistake with the incantation or the belladonna just because I was upset. I’ll be more careful.”

“Yes. I should have stocked the supplies in wiser order rather than by old habits. I’ll be more careful.”

“Mom always put the deadlies on the highest shelf, and away from …” It all welled up in her again, and spilled out of her eyes before she could stop it. “I’m okay.” She pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes. “I’m okay.”

A child, he thought again, and often the gods asked too much.

“Look into the fire. A minute only. Look,” he repeated when she dropped her hands. “And see.”

When she turned, looked, he opened the window for her. Just a little, only for a moment.

And in the flames she saw the farm, leaves falling fast in a quick wind. Her brothers, all three, stacked firewood while her father repaired a section of fence in the near pasture. Her mother worked in the garden.

As Fallon looked, as she saw, as she soaked it in, her mother straightened. She laid a hand to her heart, smiled even as tears shimmered. And tapping a finger to her lips blew a kiss before the image faded.

“Did she see me? Did she?”

“Felt you. I could do only that.”

“She felt me. Thank you.”

“Take your horse. Take the air.”

“I will, but I’ll finish the potion first, and we’ll organize the supplies. I’m all right now.”



For a week Fallon did her best to study, work, and improve her physical training. She could now juggle five balls of light, but had yet to learn how a sword felt in her hand. She’d yet to master balancing on her hand on the pool—something she did within a curtain she conjured in case Mick tried to spy again. But she only practiced that for twenty minutes a day.