A hawk soared nearby, then dived with an echoing cry to claim its prey. After that small death, silence. A world of silence.
Here and there she spotted signs of humans, small camps and communities, and the glint of solar panels on roofs as the winter sun beamed down.
And the ash and smoke left in another by a raid.
As a matter of course more than hope, she turned Laoch toward the smoke to check for any survivors. She heard screams, engines, and through the smoke saw a man sprawled on the ground while Raiders circled a woman on their bikes.
Three bikes, two with double riders, she noted. And all of them armed. An even better way, she thought, to clear the mind and heart.
Like the hawk, she dived on Laoch.
As she leaped from her mount, sword flashing, she sent the first bike and its two riders flying. Spun and used her shield to block a peppering of bullets before decapitating the lone rider.
The last whipped a tight circle, the male riding pillion jumping off to try to take her from behind while the female driver, dozens of braids streaming, shrieked, eyes mad with the kill, and barreled straight toward her.
Idiot, Fallon thought, leaped aside, flipped, and slammed her shield into the woman’s face. Spun again, planted a kick in the belly of the one trying to take her flank.
He stumbled back, but regained his balance. The female, blood spilling down her face, got to her feet, drew a knife. One of the first riders limped forward while he shouldered the rifle he’d had slung over his back.
Just like fighting ghosts at Mallick’s cottage, she thought.
“You still have a chance to live,” she said as they circled her. “Put down your weapons and surrender.”
In answer the female let out a war cry and leaped, the gunman fired, and the third slashed down with a blade.
She downed the woman with a sweep of her sword at the knees, flung the bullets back at the shooter with a punch of magic. Even as she blocked the slashing sword with her own, more shots rang out.
His body jerked in place as blood bloomed on his chest. And he fell.
The woman they’d circled knelt, the gun of the headless rider clutched in both hands. Her face, gray with shock, dark eyes wide with it, held frozen in a grimace of fury.
“You won’t need that now,” Fallon said gently. “It’s over now.”
The woman dropped it as if it burned. “Johnny!” She scrambled up, ran to the man who lay sprawled in the ash-covered dirt. “They killed my Johnny!”
“Let me see.” She had to push the woman’s hands away to search for a heartbeat, for light. “He’s alive. Let me help.”
He’d been shot, but the wound wasn’t mortal. He’d been beaten unmercifully, and those injuries could be if she didn’t heal enough to bring him back.
“Help him. Please help him.”
“I am. I will. He’s Johnny?”
“Yes, yes, Johnny.” She cradled his head, kissed his battered face.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m Lucia. Lucy.”
“Talk to him, Lucy. Let him know you’re all right.”
While Lucy murmured, wept, stroked, Fallon opened to the most serious injuries, began, as she’d been taught, to heal slowly, layer by layer.
The skull, fractured. Her own head roared with pain, forced her to back off even more. Slow, so slow, so careful, mending, easing. Jaw broken, and the nose, cheekbones. Wrist, arm, ribs.
When he moaned, stirred, Fallon eased back.
“It’s enough.”
“No, no, please. Help him.”
“I did. Trust me. He’s stable enough now. I can get you to a doctor, to healers. He’ll do better there. You’re hurt, too.”
“Just a little. It’s Johnny—”
“I know a place where you’ll both get help, both be safe. Laoch!”
He trotted over, and at her signal lowered himself. “Get on.” Fallon read fear in Lucy’s eyes, but she climbed onto Laoch’s back. Carefully, Fallon lifted Johnny, stirring the air to bring him up so he lay over Laoch’s back.
“You … You’re of the Uncanny.”
“That’s right.” Fallon glanced back at the bodies. No life left. Their choice, but still she wouldn’t leave them for the crows and vultures. With a flick of her head, she set them to flame, then mounted. “I’m Fallon.”
“Johnny told stories, but I didn’t believe in them. I didn’t think you were real.”
“Now you know. Don’t be afraid. I won’t let you fall.”
As they rose up, Lucy leaned over, wrapped her arms around Johnny—to protect him, Fallon thought, as much as herself. “He wanted to come to you, to fight with you,