Of Blood and Bone (Chronicles of The One #2)(22)

“Powers greater than mine, greater than even yours will be, foresaw what might be. It’s the nature of people, magickal and not, to wish for peace and march to war. It’s the nature of those with darkness in them, more than the light, to plot for war, to covet power. If the dark had failed that night and the shield remained whole, I might have slept another millennium, and The One would not yet be born. But at some point in time, it would happen.”

“Did you dream?”

He smiled a little. “I lived lifetimes in dreams. And I learned, even as I slept, of the world and its changes.”

“That doesn’t seem very restful.”

He let out a laugh, rich, full, unexpected. “It wasn’t,” he told her. “No, it wasn’t restful.”

Together they crossed a fallow field at a brisk canter, then rode up a steep slope to a blacktopped road.

“How much farther?”

“Another two hours. The rain will come at nightfall, but we’ll be there long before.”

“Sooner—for the rain,” Fallon said.

He gave her a slow, haughty glance. “Is that so?”

“We’re riding southeast, and the wind’s coming from the east, bringing the rain with it. Unless we change directions, we’ll have the rain at least an hour before nightfall if we’re traveling this way another two hours at this pace.”

She glanced at him with a shrug. “Farmers know the weather. The rest is just math.”

He said, “Hmph,” and continued to ride.

“Somebody’s—”

She broke off when he threw up a hand, as he heard the engines, too. He cursed himself for taking this stretch of the road—to save some time—with little to no cover on either side.

Even as he considered options—the first to lead her in a gallop back over the field—three motorcycles topped the rise of the road, barreled down it.

“If I tell you to go, ride and ride fast, back over the field. I’ll find you.”

Something in her quivered; something in her steeled. “There are six of them, and one of you.”

“There is only one of you in all the world. Do as I say. Do not speak to them, and if I say go, ride.”

They rode two to a bike, Fallon noted. Three with sidearms, three with long guns. Four men, two women.

All Raiders, she concluded, with the skull symbols painted on the bikes.

The one in the lead swung his bike across the road so that she and Mallick stopped the horses. He wore a bandanna covered in skulls around his brown hair, a pendant of another around his neck.

He’d groomed his beard into two long tails.

The woman behind him bore the slash of a scar over her left cheek. Like her companions, she wore dark glasses to conceal her eyes.

She tossed a leg over the bike, slung the rifle from her back, and held it in casual threat.

Fallon scanned the others, tried to keep her heartbeat steady as the throaty sound of the engines shut off.

The leader swung off his bike. “Well, what do we have here?”

“My granddaughter and I are traveling south to look for work.”

“Is that so? Hear that? They’re looking for work.”

The one on the second bike tipped down his sunglasses, sent Fallon a wink that made her skin feel sticky.

If she had to fight, she decided to target the woman first, then the winker.

She wouldn’t ride away. She would never leave someone so outnumbered.

“What’s in the bags?”

“All we have left in the world.” The plea in Mallick’s voice put Fallon’s back up. “And little more than nothing.”

“Then you can make do with nothing. Off the horse, Grandpa. You, too, sweetcheeks.”

“Please. She’s just a child.”

The second woman pulled a sidearm. “She gets off the horse or I shoot her off.”

“Don’t shoot the fresh meat.” The one who’d winked got off his bike, rubbed his crotch. “I got some work for her.”

They laughed, all, in a way that didn’t make Fallon’s skin sticky. It turned her mind, her blood, very, very cool.

She dismounted.

“Six of you,” she said with disdain. “Two of us.”

The leader drew a knife from his belt. “It’s about to be one of you.”

He lunged at Mallick.

It happened fast, before Fallon could react and she’d thought she was ready.

Mallick’s fist flashed out, hard as a hammer strike. He knocked the man back into the woman behind him so they both fell.

With his other hand he hurled a ball of wind that blew the second woman and her sidearm twenty feet back. Even as she landed with a sickening thud, Mallick drew a sword.

Two rushed him, and the third left standing ducked aside and charged at Fallon.

She pulled out her knife, and without thinking set it on fire.

“Fucking Uncanny bitch.” He snarled at her, drawing his gun. “Bullet beats knife, every time.”

“No. It doesn’t.” She slashed the blade through the air, and the gun in his hand exploded into flames.

When he screamed, dropped it, slapped at the flames over his hand, she did one of the first defensive moves her father had taught her. She kicked him in the balls.

When he went down, she spun, prepared to help Mallick. He stood with his bloodied sword.