The Might of Evil Dreams (A Novel of the Elemental Chronicles)

Twenty-Seven - The River Runs On

Above: The Battle of Austerlitz, 1805.

Emmeline

We buried Josiah and Peggy on the same day Rosina was christened, in the Haywood family plot. None of us thought it strange that we were wearing black to a christening, nor did anyone question the reason why we were commemorating birth and death in the same day. Tom and I knew, standing graveside with our daughter wrapped up snugly in blankets and gently dozing in his arms. I sensed our sons knew, one clinging to my dress and the other to the hem of Tom's coat. It was what life was, losing some you loved but gaining others, and knowing you would all be reunited in the end when it was your time.

"She seems to understand the solemnity of the occasion, at any rate," Tom said as we walked back, the late November wind whipping at us. "I think she gets the discipline from her mother."

"No doubt she gets the impulsiveness from her father." I slid my hand through Tom's elbow, reaching over and giving Rosina's tiny hand a gentle squeeze. She gripped my finger tightly, with surprising strength.

Tom smiled, but said nothing. What more was there, after what we had been through?

We were greeted by Lord Radford and Lady Violet the moment we arrived back home. He was pale, his eyes slightly dulled, and his movements slower. He even had a cane, leaning on it with a white-knuckled grip. Yet he still smiled and shook Tom's hand, and kissed mine like the gentleman he was.

"How has he been?" I asked Lady Violet when the men left us alone, taking Rosina with them. She carried her own newborn child, Ursula, who had entered the world during her father's convalescence.

"His recovery is slow," she said with a sigh. "But the prognosis is good. He should be back to normal by December."

"Having the Essence nearly ripped from you will do that." I thought of our own recovery, which Dr Granby had mentioned would be slow. There was a lingering weakness, so deep within it was easy to ignore most of the time, that I knew was from the strange golden metal. I saw it in Tom sometimes — when he dismounted from Thor and his legs wobbled, or if he tried to hoist one of our children up too quickly and his grip slipped. I felt it in myself as well, sometimes in the middle of something important, and at that point I would have to take a moment to sit down and recollect myself.

"Ray says the captures have stopped," she said after a while, when I'd begun to think we weren't going to speak at all and she was gently stroking Ursula's soft, sparse hair. "Now that their leader's dead, I suppose there's no point."

"He is right." No one but our household knew what had truly happened that night, and for the time being we were willing to let it remain that way. Someday, perhaps, we would disclose the whole story. But all anyone knew right now was that Blanchard was dead and the terror that had gripped us for so long was gone.

"I am glad our children will not have to grow up fearing for their lives," she said, and I felt her grip tighten on my elbow when I listed sideways for a moment. "And it is all thanks to the bravery of people such as you and your husband."

"It is, isn't it?" I let her support me. We never would have been able to do it alone. Had it not been for her, Lord Radford, even all those men at Elemental Advancement and Charles Ashbury, I didn't know where we would be now. Certainly not here.

||

We passed a quiet holiday season, through Christmas, Boxing Day, and the coming of the new year. It was hard to believe that a year ago, Tom and I had been at odds, our collective secrets threatening to break us apart. This time, I was thankful it was not the same. Perhaps it was our desire for some quiet simplicity.