Elfhome

Pony was behind the steering wheel. The dash lights gleamed on his profile as he gave Stormsong a hard look.

“The others will want proof.” Stormsong said. “We can’t take them wild guesses. We will look like babies afraid of the lightning.”

Tinker gave her one shaky proof. “How did Sparrow expect to control the oni once the domana were overthrown? If the Skin Clan are the greater bloods, then the oni are already under their control.”

Pony looked pained as he focused on the dark roads. “Domi, if you believe this, then I am sure you are right. Stormsong is also correct in saying that the others will need proof.”

Tinker slunk down in her seat wishing she felt as sure as Pony did. His trust in her was intimidating. “No, I could be wrong. It’s just a hunch.”

“Your mother is a very strong intanyai seyosa.” Stormsong used the Elvish name for one who could see the future. “It passes through the female line. You have it to some degree.”

Tinker scoffed.

“I’ve seen you race, Beloved.” Stormsong said. “You were aggressive beyond reason because you let your ability guide you.”

It went against Tinker’s grain to go without solid proof. Science was about facts, not hunches. This hunch, though, was eating away at her gut.

Stormsong suddenly shouted, “Out!” as she threw open the door, caught Tinker by the waist and flung them both out into the night. They hit the highway hard, Stormsong taking the brunt of the fall, and tumbled on the rough asphalt before Stormsong’s shields wrapped around them in brilliant blue. A second later the Rolls erupted into flame. Tinker screamed in pain and horror as searing heat and deafening noise blasted over them. Pony!

Stormsong held her close, muffling Tinker’s scream against her shoulder. “Shhhh.” Stormsong tucked them behind a concrete jersey barrier. The gas tank burst in a secondary explosion even as random car pieces rain down onto the roadway around them. Thick black smoke rolled up into the night, awash with the blaze of the roaring fire.

Tinker locked her jaw tight against the pain and anguish. Someone had hit the Rolls with a rocket. Had the others reacted in time to Stormsong’s warning? Were they safe? There was something wrong with her right arm; it felt like it was on fire. She couldn’t make her fingers move. She couldn’t summon her shields. The ammo in the trunk started to go off in random cracks of gunfire.

There was movement and Pony was beside them, shields up and face set to cold hardness. Tinker wanted to hug him tight and reassure herself that he was safe. She contented herself with leaning lightly against him. He kissed her on the temple.

Stormsong signed “no shields” in blade talk. Pony glanced at Tinker’s arm and nodded. In the flickering light from the burning Rolls, he made a motion and Cloudwalker appeared beside him.

“Attack?” Cloudwalker asked in blade talk.

Pony shook his head, and signed back, “Retreat.”

Cloudwalker frowned and signed a question that Tinker couldn’t follow.

Pony shook his head again and repeated firmly, “Retreat.”

Obviously if she wasn’t there, helpless, they would have engaged the oni but Pony was putting her safety first. She put out her left hand to Pony to get his attention, held up all her fingers, and folded over all but the last two and ended with question. She wasn’t going to leave if the other two were hurt.

He nodded first right and then left, indicating that Rainlily and Little Egret were flanking them.

She nodded her understanding. If her Hand was safe, then she was all for retreating. Cloudwalker sheathed his sword and scooped her up.

She was trying to remember the sign that meant she could walk when they took off running. Stormsong was in the lead, picking the path.

#

The ambush hit them in the middle span of Mckees Rocks Bridge. A hundred feet over the Ohio River and no way down except toward one of the banks, over a half-mile away. The smoke masked their escape the first few minutes, and then they were out in the open, only the night to hide them. Gunfire cracked and bullets ricocheted off the pavement at their feet.

“Under!” Stormsong yelled and leaped off the bridge.

Pony followed without a pause and a second later Cloudwalker leapt, still carrying Tinker. She gasped, trying not to scream as they fell down toward the river, hundreds of feet below, and then Stormsong and Pony yanked Cloudwalker into the underbracing of the bridge. Something hit hard overhead, exploding in great thunder of noise and steel under them jumped and rattled.

“This way,” Stormsong whispered in the darkness.

And they were running again, weaving through the huge girders of the understructure. The others raced again and took turns acting as Cloudwalker’s hands so he didn’t have to shift his hold on Tinker. Years of working as a team let them move silently through the steelwork as if they were a circus act.