Page 21 of The Magic of Pemberley (Fitzwilliam Darcy, Mage #2)

Chapter 21

E lizabeth thought the sun would never set on this interminable day. Her heart had been in her throat since Darcy had pulled the power of Pemberley through her late that morning. She had felt it flowing, a constant stream of pulsating magic that went through her without touching her, flying invisibly to France to create illusions.

And then it had stopped, leaving her completely ignorant of the outcome. Had Darcy been captured – or worse? Had she somehow signed his death warrant by failing to give him enough power? She would not know if Napoleon had been killed until the news reached England, which could take days.

All she wanted to know was if Darcy was alive. And sunset, when the dragon scale became active, would provide the only answer she might get. Would she feel his presence, or would there be nothing there?

She could not bear to sit and wait, so she excused herself and headed outside. Frederica would have been happy to accompany her, of course, but it was easier to be alone. Anxiety ached in her throat as the sun approached the horizon. Would this be the night that she heard nothing?

The chill of the evening had set in, so she headed for the walled rose garden. She could sit on the marble bench under the pergola, but the soil called to her, asking for her Talent. She sent back the sensation of regret and the promise of more later; she could not deplete any of her energy that might be needed for the contact. But the land’s disappointment was palpable, so she tried to make up for it by kneeling in the dirt and working it with her fingertips – not at all magical, but at least it showed her attention.

And it distracted her a little from the frantic worry.

Then it came, the special tug with Darcy’s unique flavor, that sense of an oak grove in summer, and relief flooded her. He was still alive!

But then the tug intensified, dragging power through her, through their unborn child, just as it had earlier. Rivers of energy, all washing through her from the land, through Pemberley’s bond to its master. She dug her fingertips deep into the soil.

What was happening? This was even more than he had pulled through her before.

He had to survive. Desperate, she poured all her powers through their bond, begging the land to give her more.

The draw of magic abruptly stopped. A cry left her lips.

Then another slight tug, and his voice, faint with distance, just at the edge of her hearing. No, not words, but images, coming from him.

Napoleon, held fast by two men, a garrote around his neck. Then the garrote falling loose, empty, as the familiar form of a kestrel took the air; and Napoleon nowhere to be seen, the men who had been holding him staring at each other in disbelief.

He controlled my mind. It was Darcy’s voice.

Then the images faded, and she was alone, collapsed on the ground between two rosebushes, her mind spinning. Napoleon. Who had turned into a falcon.

Utterly impossible, and yet it explained everything.

His ability to find and control dragons, his uncanny knowledge of his enemy’s battle strategies, his strange magnetism that caused even those who disagreed with him to follow him. All possible for a powerful dragon who could shift forms to fly over a battlefield before the fighting started.

Darcy had faced him and was still alive. Still alive! He must have drawn all that magic to overcome the distance between them, to give her that crucial message .

And she was too giddy to consider the consequences.

Giddy. Oh, dear, she had overdrawn her life force! And she was too far from the house to hope that they might hear her call out. She dared not try to move.

Thankfully, shuffling footsteps on the gravel path alerted her she was no longer alone. It was Edwards, the gardener.

“Mrs. Darcy, be ye in need of help?” he asked in his heavy local accent.

“Yes, very much so. Pray ask Lady Frederica to join me at her earliest convenience, and have tea with honey sent to me. Quickly.”

“Here, madam?” He sounded dubious.

“Yes, here.” Looking foolish by taking tea sitting on the garden path was the least of her worries. First she had to stay alive long enough to pass on Darcy’s shocking message.

So she simply lay there in the dirt, letting the land’s power trickle into her. Perhaps she could manage to walk to the bench, but for her child’s sake, she would not take the risk. Had the baby felt all the magic pouring through him?

A bonnetless Frederica arrived at a run. “What happened?” she demanded.

Elizabeth looked up at her, feeling foolish lying on the ground. “I had a sending from Darcy. A true sending, not just the link.”

“At this distance? No wonder you are drained! But he is alive?”

“Yes.” She rubbed her hand over her forehead. “But apparently Napoleon is…” It was too ridiculous. She could not say it.

“Dead?” Frederica exclaimed excitedly.

“No. He escaped, by turning himself into a falcon.”

It was beyond belief.

Frederica paled. “Napoleon… changed into a falcon?” Her voice rose on the last word. “Are you trying to tell me the Emperor of France is a dragon?”

Torn between disbelieving laughter and tears, Elizabeth raised her palms helplessly. “That is what Darcy sent me. ”

Frederica sat down on the bench with a thump. “I suppose that explains how he can command dragons.”

“I suppose so.” No, it was too ridiculous a notion. But what else could Darcy have meant? A sudden unexpected longing for him pierced her, and she ached with the need to have him beside her. Instead he was somewhere in hostile territory, under the rule of a mad dragon. Her stomach did a flip-flop.

Then it happened again.

Once again she pressed her hand to her waist, this time in a different kind of disbelief.

Frederica stared at her in consternation “What is it? Are you ill? Where is that dratted tea? I told them to hurry!”

“No, it is just the babe quickening. All that Talent flowing through him must have woken him up.” What an odd feeling!

If only she could share it with Darcy.

The world came crashing back in at that thought, tearing her away from the miracle happening inside her. “We must tell the dragons. Can you call Quickthorn? I dare not try to send to Cerridwen while I am so weak.” And then she would have to decide what to do next. Send word to Granny, most likely, since she knew no one at the War Office, and they would not believe her anyway.

Frederica said, “Quickthorn is on her way. And look, here comes your tea.”

“Impossible!” announced Quickthorn, for at least the third time.

Elizabeth ignored her, inasmuch as one could ignore a dragon four times her size. She had finally made it to the bench, with her heavy shawl wrapped around her and lanterns lit on either side. And Cerridwen next to her, rocking back and forth and radiating distress .

She was not the only one. After Quickthorn’s initial urgent sending to the Nest, other dragons had arrived, two in falcon form and Rowan, who was still young enough to be able to take his true form briefly away from the Nest. Elizabeth had just told her story yet again and allowed Rowan to read her, too, so he could take her memories back to the Eldest.

All of them, in falcon form or dragon, were exuding deep shock and horror. And terror.

“Are you certain?” asked Rowan.

“I am certain that is what Darcy sent me, and since Frederica and Quickthorn are both here, I cannot be lying,” Elizabeth snapped. “And I can think of no reason why he would not tell me the truth.”

Rowan sank back on his haunches. “My apologies, Companion Elizabeth. This is such frightful news that we all seek to find a way to disbelieve it, because the truth is so unpalatable.”

“Why?” Frederica asked. “It is shocking, yes, but why does it frighten you so?”

The dragon lowered his head. “Because Napoleon, or the dragon masquerading as him, is a killer, which means he is in thrall to the Wicked King, cursed be his name. It means our greatest enemy has a powerful foothold in this world which has been our refuge. None of us are safe any longer. A killer dragon can destroy us all.”

“But you already knew that Napoleon was in league with the Wicked King, from what the sea serpent told Darcy,” Frederica argued.

“We thought him human then. A human with the backing of the Wicked King could do terrible things, yes. A dragon in his service, with all of Europe at his command, could bring the end to this world.”

Elizabeth shivered. An end to the dragons, or an end to everything? Napoleon, either as a human or a dragon, had shown great callousness to slaughter.

Cerridwen leaned her leg against Elizabeth’s. “This was the missing piece,” the dragon said heavily. “Now we know the meaning of my vision. Some dragons disbelieved it before, because they could not imagine any power great enough to cause such devastation. Not any longer.”

To no one’s surprise, Elizabeth was summoned by the Eldest the following day. The Nest was a hive of activity, with more dragons in the main rooms than Elizabeth had ever seen before. She followed Cerridwen through to the chamber of the Eldest.

The room was unchanged, but the great dragon’s aura weighed on it with deep concern tinged with despair. If only she could offer some comfort! But that was not possible. Cerridwen had not been herself since the news had come, either.

After exchanging greetings, she allowed the Eldest to read her memories of the previous evening. When it was done, the Eldest said heavily, “I wish to ask a favor of you. Would you permit me to intrude upon your connection with your mate this evening? I would use it to take the memory directly from his mind.”

“I expected you would wish to do something like that,” she said.

“You do have the right to refuse. The scale by which you connect was a gift to you.”

“I do not object.” Even if she would prefer not to give up her brief moment with Darcy, this was obviously more important. “How do we go about this?”

“You are generous, Companion Elizabeth. I will need to hold you against my body, with both of us touching the scale. It will mean remaining here through sunset.”

She nodded. “Cerridwen warned me I might need to stay at the Companions’ House overnight, so I came prepared.”

The Eldest dropped her forelegs, releasing Elizabeth from the odd embrace she had held her in while the scale connection activated. “Well, that was curious,” the ancient dragon said.

Elizabeth craned her neck to look up at her. “Were you able to see anything? I could not tell.” To her, it had merely been an incomprehensible rush of Talent, with a slight flavor of Darcy’s oak grove in summer.

“Enough to be certain the French Emperor is no mortal, and almost certainly a dragon. A killer dragon, with all that implies. What is puzzling is why he did not put a binding on Darcy to keep him from revealing this.”

That was indeed odd. “A good question. Napoleon must have a companion, since he is far from any Nest. Is there a way to tell who it might be?”

The Eldest lowered his head. “To a mortal? No. If one of us were in his presence, we would know.”

She knew better than to suggest that killing Napoleon’s companion could force him back to his Nest. It did not matter, anyway, if they did not know who it was. And perhaps Napoleon was like Rana Akshaya, mysteriously able to leave his Nest with no companion.

“What will happen now?” she asked. The question had been pounding at her all day.

The great dragon sank back on her haunches. “That is a difficult question, and one that is too large for me. I must consult with other Nests.”

Elizabeth had already heard this from Cerridwen, that dragons with companions from around Britain would be invited to the Dark Peak to discuss this news, along with how to manage the end of the Great Concealment. “Will Rana Akshaya be invited to speak to them, too?” If the Indian dragon was to be excluded, Elizabeth wanted to prepare for the explosion likely to follow .

“I think we shall have to, as some of the other Nests would like their own reports on her. But I fear I must also ask you for more assistance than is our custom with companions.”

She had not expected that. “I am glad to offer any help I can.”

“We need messengers to bear our invitations to Nests across Britain, men who can travel long distances quickly and are willing to be under binding. Our Kith are not accustomed to such journeys and lack good horses. Would there be any in your service who would be able to help?”

“Without a doubt.” Pemberley had plenty of grooms and manservants who would be glad to take a trip for extra pay, and the brownies were keeping the stables clean. “But would it not be simpler to send the messages through the Gate?”

“Many Nests do not have Gates, and it takes time and enormous energy each time we must change the direction of the Gate. We have already exhausted our Gate dragons with sending out word of Rana Akshaya’s arrival.”

She nodded, though she had almost no understanding of the Gates, or even how many Nests there might be. “How many riders will you need?”

“Perhaps three, if you can spare them. Cerridwen will give them their instructions.” The Eldest settled back on her haunches. “I will be frank with you, Companion Elizabeth. Our Nest has never hosted even a minor Conclave. We are one of the smallest Nests, since we are so close to the lowlands, but these events have forced us into the forefront of dragon affairs. We may need your help again if many companions arrive. We do not have enough Kith to manage more than a few guests at our Companions’ House, nor have they any experience in doing so.”

At last, a problem she could actually solve! “My housekeeper at Pemberley was rescued by dragons as a child. She is accustomed to running a large household and would be greatly honored to provide advice on the needs of managing the Companions House. She could help with providing supplies and servants if needed.”

“If you think she would agree, that would be a burden off my shoulders. ”

“I will speak to her, then.” Not that she had any doubts of Mrs. Reynolds’ answer.

But what would Darcy think? He had left a calm, well-managed estate. Now they were overwhelmed with lesser fae, not to mention Rana Akshaya and her entourage taking over the state rooms, Quickthorn in residence in the ballroom, and now Elizabeth was loaning staff to the Nest right and left.

She swallowed hard, fighting back the tears that came so easily these days. Darcy could be as angry as he liked about the changes, as long as he came home to her.