Of Blood and Bone (Chronicles of The One #2)(110)

The numbers she took with her mattered.

Lana insisted every inch, every corner of the house required scrubbing. Fallon saw that not only as pride, but a need to remind the house, its spirits, its memories, that it was loved.

Simon walked the fields, went over equipment, feeding schedules, the barn, silos, every outbuilding with those who’d serve as caretakers. His version of scrubbing, Fallon thought.

As much as she wanted to go, as much as dreams pushed her to begin, she took her parents’ distractions as a way to pigeonhole each of her brothers, one by one.

With Colin she played to his pride in being the oldest son and his protective instincts. She, and their parents, depended on him to look out for his younger brothers, and to show by his example the need to be careful and cautious, and to follow orders.

She appealed to Travis’s intellect, slyness, and his gift. She knew he’d be smart, oh, she depended on it, as he knew as well as she that their brothers might do something foolish. So if he felt they might, she counted on him to distract them.

With Ethan, she had only to appeal to his heart. Their parents would worry, so she knew, could depend on, him listening carefully and helping them not worry as much. He’d also be her head scout, as animals often felt danger before people, and no one knew animals as well as he did.

She hoped that would keep them all in line at least for the first miles, but imagined she’d have to repeat the talks—and come up with new angles—regularly on the way to New Hope.

As the days passed she came to believe her parents had been right. More, she saw this as another choice, and the right choice, to go as a family.

And on a soft May morning with the leaves springing green, and the sun spreading its first gilded light over the hills, they headed south, as a family.

Her brothers chatted like magpies, and the dogs—nearly as young and just as excited—pranced. But Fallon saw tears glint in her mother’s eyes as Lana looked back, one last time.

“It’ll be where we left it, babe.”

Lana looked at Simon, gave him a smile, and didn’t look back again. They rode through the first day with Taibhse soaring overhead. Her brothers never tired, nor did Faol Ban, and when the dogs did, Ethan took Scout up on his horse, and Simon took Jem.

They covered those first miles without incident, so Fallon nearly relaxed enough to enjoy her brothers’ sheer wonder.

They’d never seen roads so plentiful or so wide, so many houses huddled together on what they considered one plot of land.

They’d never heard the wind whistle through the windows of abandoned cars or read signs that promised food and lodging up ahead.

Despite the broken windows and Raiders’ graffiti on an old mini-mart—another new sight for her brothers—Travis began to weave a tale of a heroic battle.

Then they saw the remains, picked to the bone by time and carrion-eaters, hanging from what had been a flagpole.

She didn’t object when her father rode to the remains, dismounted. The crank squeaked as he lowered the rope.

“Ethan, keep the dogs back. Colin, bring me the shovel.”

Would she have ridden on? Fallon asked herself. Looked, pitied, but just ridden on past the dead rather than stop to do the human and the humane?

Here, she imagined Mallick would have told her, was another lesson to learn.

She dismounted, started to get the second shovel, but saw Colin already had. And with his father, her brother dug a grave for a dead stranger in the weedy strip of grass beside the pitted parking lot.

The wind flapped the rags of the flag on the pole and had the broken awning over the door of the mini-mart screeching metal to metal.

“He tried to run.”

She looked sharply at Travis, saw it wasn’t a story, but seeing.

“There’s no need to look,” she began, but he shot her a glittering glare.

“Somebody should. Somebody should know. He tried to run, but he wasn’t fast enough. They took his boots and his pack, then they hanged him because he was too old to be of any use.”

Fallon put a hand on his arm. It trembled under her touch, not from fear, she realized, but rage.

“We’re going to stop them.” He stared at her another moment. “We’re going to stop them,” he repeated, then turned into his mother and pressed his face to her shoulder.

Then he straightened his own shoulders, and walked over to help.

She watched Ethan pick flowering weeds, lay them on the grave. Whatever their father said as he lay a hand on Ethan’s head had her youngest brother nodding.

“I was wrong,” Fallon said to her mother. “I was wrong about them being too young for the journey. I’m asking them to train to fight, but I wasn’t ready for them to see why. I was wrong.”

To mark this turn on her path, she turned to the building, held out her hands, let the power rise up and out.

The skulls and crossbones, the ugly words faded. In their place she forged the fivefold symbol, and the words she’d carved into her bracelet. Into her reminder.

Solas don Saol



Late in the afternoon, she led them off the road into the trees where the map told her they’d find a stream. While they rested and watered the horses, she went to her father.

“There’s a settlement about three miles southwest. I want to check it out while you wait here.”

“Together, Fallon.”