Protector of the Flight

by Robin D. Owens

  “And the Song chose me for you, despite…” Her lips curved slightly and he realized she was teasing, and that slammed into him with crushing tenderness. No one had teased him since he’d been a child with his own family. After that, he’d always taken life very, very seriously and people had respected that. When he’d been noticed, as if his moods had ever been of the slightest consideration. Not often. He dropped his head to her shoulder and smelled the sweet earthiness of her, of their pairing.

  “Yes,” he ground out the words. “I have flaws, too. Many.” Fear had driven him when he was a teen. He’d chosen to serve under Lady Hallard when she’d visited his old master and offered him a place. He’d striven to become a Chevalier instead of working in a stable all his life. That climb had taken longer than he’d anticipated, and along with the battles, had simply worn him down. For a while. But he’d taken the defection of the volarans as his own personal alarm. It had scared him to the bottom of his soul. He’d be nothing without Dark Lance.

  Correction. He’d have been nothing. Now he’d risen to the heady top of the status ladder overnight. Was the fact that he’d rediscovered his ambition, his fight, one of the reasons that the Song had gifted this woman to him? He thought so.

  Awkwardly, he picked up their joined hands, turned them over and pressed a kiss into her palm.

  Her head lifted and she looked at him with wide eyes, as if she’d rarely received affection. Perhaps despite their appearance, they were two of a kind. “We’ll adopt,” he said roughly.

  When she smiled, their shared Song rose inside him, beautiful and potent, and brought with it the sound of volaran wings and the whisper of long, verdant grass from a place that could be their home.

  He glanced away, cleared his throat. “I think we should bathe and eat,” he said.

  She glanced at him and nodded. “Let’s face the Marshalls and whatever else we need to do—choose the land.”

  “Very well.” He tugged on her and started walking toward a door. “We must dress.”

  Calli saw the shreds of his clothes tossed around and her beautiful blue dress. She liked it, but didn’t want to slither into it for breakfast.

  On a chest were folded clothes; pants easy to get into, and special sleeveless shirts that buttoned on the shoulders and along the sides. They were the Exotique color of purple.

  Another short interval of humiliation and they were dressed and ready to go.

  She opened the door to find Alexa and Marian lounging in deep chairs set in the semicircular entryway.

  “We want to bathe,” Calli said.

  “Where’s Luthan?” Marrec asked.

  Bastien strolled up the stairs and into the room. Grinning wickedly, he said, “My upright brother didn’t stay long. Just long enough to hear screams of delight, by which sound—and the Bonding Song emanating from the suite—he cannily deduced that the consummation of the marriage had occurred.”

  Heat crawled up Calli’s neck, bloomed on her cheeks. She tugged on Marrec’s arm. “Let’s go now.”

  They walked together, passing the other three to the stairs.

  “Calli?” Alexa said.

  Calli turned her head to look at the woman. “Ayes?”

  “You walk well with Marrec. In step. You look good together.”

  “I always was good in a three-legged race.”

  “What’s a three-legged race?” asked Marrec and Bastien together.

  Watching her step down the long flight of stairs, Calli said, “It’s a race people play during, um, picnics, holidays.” She waved her free hand.

  Marrec frowned a little, as if accessing her memories. That was a little creepy, so Calli said, “Let’s go.”

  17

  After a quick bath in the public pools that left Calli red from more than the heated water, she and Marrec ate a late breakfast with a few of the younger Marshalls in the fancy dining room. Everyone at the table spoke more than he, and Calli sensed he was wary of those who had had great power over him just the day before. He wasn’t a talkative man, so she figured she’d be relying on the memories that continued to roll from him to try and understand him. But that was a blessing. It wasn’t often that a woman had so much information about her husband. At least, that’s what Calli was telling herself.

  As she and Marrec walked across the courtyard to the Map Room to choose their land, a group of Marshalls and top-ranking Chevaliers surrounded them. With each step, tension built and cycled back and forth. She’d try to take an easy breath and relax and niggling anxiety from Marrec would destroy her calm. He’d shove nervousness aside, boxing it away in a safe place and the strain of the unknown would flip from her to him and pop the lid off the box.

  Then they were there, standing before the great, animated map of Lladrana.

  People pressed around them. Calli thought that everyone’s gaze had gone to the northern border just as hers had done. The room itself wasn’t large, so others must be lining the cloisters and lingering in the courtyard.

  Marian and Jaquar and Bastien and Alexa were there, of course, some of the older Marshalls and the two feycoocus in the shape of red birds with long tails perched on the top frame of the map. It comforted Calli that Alexa had done this same thing.

  And Calli had Marrec. His Song resounded in her head, strong with excitement. His arm against her was tense as he focused on the map. Her fingers fisted as she realized he wanted the land as much or more than she did.

  Swordmarshall Thealia raised her hands and the babble died. “These are the current vacant estates.” She gestured.

  The map, which had been topographical, showing the greens of rich farmland and brown of mountains, turned to a dark gray background with splotches of yellow.

  To Calli’s way of thinking, there was far too much free land, obviously because the owners had fallen in battle and left no heirs. Chevaliers, like her; Marshalls, like Alexa; nobles, like Lady Hallard and Faucon, who winked at her.

  Marrec’s excitement reached a shrill pitch, subsided. She saw a real smile on his lips. He stepped forward, concentrating on one dot in particular, a place that had been in the richest green, not too far from the southern border.

  He gestured. “Here—”

  Ttho. Calli grabbed his arm. Ttho.

  He looked down at her, frustration leaped from him to her, through their connecting Songs, through their blood.

  Ttho? It’s rich. The richest we could get. Big. Close to the Shud border and good trade. Far from the north. We’d never be in danger. Never.

  I’m a mountain girl. I want mountains. She waved vaguely to the north.

  He stiffened into rigidity. His glance flicked up and to the northwest. Where his village had once been. He had few and indistinct images of the massacre, but so terrible that Calli had locked them away. When his Song went ragged, she shoved them away from him, too.

  His expression was impassive, but she knew his inner struggle.

  I’m a mountain girl, she repeated, putting her free hand on their linked arms.

  A neigh came from the courtyard outside. She didn’t recognize it, only knew Thunder’s and her horses’ calls.

  Volaran Valley. The equine voice came to Marrec first, then through him to her.

  Dark Lance, Marrec said.

  Together they stared at the map and Volaran Valley, northeast of the Marshalls’ Castle. To the west of the valley the land rose.

  “Topographical map, please,” Calli said, a little surprised that she knew the words. But languages hadn’t been too hard for her, and she could pluck phrases out of Marrec’s head since they were bound so closely.

  The map changed back to the blue of the sea, greens and browns, and the white of the tallest peaks in the north. Those were too dangerous, Calli knew.

  Marrec pointed to where the land he wanted was. It’s perfect, but his conviction, his lust for this particular place had slightly faded.

  Near Volaran Valley! came, and it was a swell of Song so strong, from every volaran in t
he Castle that it staggered her. Marrec stood rocklike, absorbing the shock of her body, the volarans’ minds. His lips thinned.

  “May we see the free estates, please?” Calli said, and as the map faded to gray and yellow, she kept the image of the mountain ranges in her mind.

  She angled her chin. The spur from the north. Near the end of the spur, on the eastern slope, closer to Volaran Valley. See? There’s a place. It would be a good place for volarans and horses, wouldn’t it?

  “Must we choose now? Can’t we look at the land?” Marrec asked.

  Thealia frowned. Lady Hallard snorted. “Calli must be trained as soon as possible.”

  Calli’s turn to tremble.

  Marrec stared at her, this woman who had shattered his old life with her choice of him. Yet, she hadn’t chosen blindly. The drugs had freed her mind, emotions, Power for the Song to guide them together. He had, quite simply, been the best fit for her. He shifted from foot to foot. She still stared at the map.

  He wanted a rich estate that would always support them, their children…no children from his body, but the lost children they’d adopt. They could make a large family. A rich estate would ensure their children would never go hungry, never be poor. An estate in the south would be best.

  Throaty coos impinged on his hearing. He looked at the two feycoocus who perched with curled claws around the top frame of the map. They had wanted Faucon for her. A snap of jealousy whipped through him before he recalled that Faucon, rich noble that he was, garnered much of his wealth from his seaside estates and ships.

  Marrec was landless, could be more flexible in the matter of property, could give her a mountain estate. The gleam of Calli’s hair tempted him, golden, like freshly minted coin. He stroked her head. Her eyes, blue as the sky, met his—filled with tears.

  Merde!

  She’d broken his old, grinding life, given him new hope. Through their blood flashed images of her lost home…in the mountains.

  They could build a good life together. They would have to learn each other’s rhythms, make adjustments, when they became a fighting team. He rubbed his chin. “We’ll take the land on the east side of the Eperon range, the little circular valley.”

  Gratitude flooded Calli, her body softened, she folded into him. The volarans outside trumpeted.

  Well done, said a voice in his head and he looked to the map—where the land had already shaded into the purple of an Exotique estate—and upward into the beady yet fathomless eyes of Alexa’s feycoocu.

  “Thank you,” Calli said it in her own language, then set her head against his heart and looked at the map. “Merci.” She sniffled, swallowed. “We must choose our colors. That purple has got to go.”

  “What about black edged with silver, like Dark Lance?” he said.

  She smiled up at him and it was free, and easy, and nearly…loving. “Done.”

  Shades of gray would be good, her volaran said.

  “Bo-ring,” Calli said in her old tongue.

  Thunder grumbled in her mind.

  Calli nodded to the map. “Look.”

  Their land had already changed to a black shield edged with silver. “A silver-gray volaran, flying,” she murmured. The shield took on that symbol. Again she looked up at him. “You agree?”

  “Ayes.”

  Thealia clapped her hands. “It is done. The Gardpont colors and heraldry are noted. The estate will be logged in the Lorebook.”

  Bastien laughed, put one hand on each of their shoulders. “You do know that you’ve chosen colors like a black and white.” He touched his striped hair that marked him as one with wild, fractured Power.

  Calli frowned, glanced up at Marrec. “Perhaps one of our children will be a black and white.”

  That could be a real challenge. “I don’t see children in our future, just yet,” Marrec said gently. “We’re a fighting team.”

  She stiffened. “Ayes.”

  “But someday…” he said, and sent his own Song to spiral around her, full of the knowledge that it had just changed once more, deepened, as he’d become a landowner. If that could happen, what other miracles could occur?

  Nodding decisively, she said, “Someday.”

  When they exited the Map Room, the courtyard was filled with all the Castle volarans again, with Thunder and Dark Lance sticking their heads through the window opening of cloister walk. Both volarans radiated smug satisfaction. Marrec noted mares next to them and behind them. “I don’t think we’ll have any problems with that volaran-breeding program.”

  A hint of pink color rose to her face, fascinating him. He touched her cheek, it was slightly warmer than usual. “What is this called?” he asked. Of course, his people occasionally showed a change of color, but it was only noticeable if you were staring at them.

  “A blush or flush,” she said in her own language.

  “I don’t think I’ll ever tire of seeing it,” he said.

  She snorted.

  Thealia stopped beside them, looked at the sea of volarans. “Is this going to happen every time you’re around, Calli?”

  “They all want to fly with her,” Marrec said.

  Calli appeared startled, then blinked, looked out at the winged steeds. “You’re right.” She nodded. “I can do that.”

  The alarm shrilled. Marrec tensed, ready to run, remembered he was literally bound to Calli and stopped. Chevaliers close to the volarans at the edge of the herd saddled and mounted, began to fly out.

  “The junior Marshalls will lead and fight today!” Thealia’s voice filled the courtyard.

  A whoop echoed from the newest Marshalls, admitted into those ranks since Alexa was Summoned. Most of them hadn’t been in the Map Room and took off in the next wave.

  Calli leaned against him. He drew her into his arms and they watched the mass of volarans shift as Chevaliers and Marshalls flew to fight.

  “I don’t like this,” she muttered.

  That was an understatement. Marrec felt her deep fear and anger roil her blood, ripple through her Song until it was strident and uneven.

  Thunder and Dark Lance came closer, sticking as much of themselves through the cloister opening as they could. Knowing she needed comfort, Marrec drew her forward so their volarans could nuzzle them.

  I do not fly today, Dark Lance said in a superior tone. Do not carry nets of monsters anymore for zhiv and better status. Have good stall next to Thunder’s. He whickered.

  “True,” Marrec said, stroking Dark Lance’s neck. “But we will be in the thick of battle, always, when we fight.” He didn’t say that the Exotiques tended to be targeted by the Dark forces…but even though they were the focus of the invading monsters’ attention, they were also well prized by the Chevaliers, Marshalls and Circlets. Marrec had no doubt that every volaran on a battlefield would die protecting Calli—and now himself. For if he died, she would, too. It was a very odd sensation to know that others would give their lives in order to save his. Something he hadn’t thought of before. It humbled him.

  “Marrec, Calli, you should return to the Map Room,” called Thealia, steel in her voice.

  He and Calli shared a look, their Songs spiked in anxiety. Returning to the room, they saw the map had reverted to the aspect of a battle map. The northern border showed the fence posts, new and dying, and the force field boundary…and the gaps.

  Thealia gestured to the north, a mass of horrors trickled across the northern border. “It’s a big incursion,” she said. “We’re going to lose some people. Perhaps we all should—”

  Bastien shoved away from the wall he’d been leaning on. “Let the new Marshalls lead and fight. They need to learn the confidence of taking the field and winning without you older folks.” Underlying his words was the inescapable fact that some of the older Marshalls could die at any time. His dark gaze passed over Marrec and lingered on Calli. “Everyone must move from training and practice to real battles.”

  Now the color in Calli’s face changed again; she went very pale, pa
ler than anyone Marrec had seen alive. He didn’t like this color change. He glared at Bastien, but that man was still focused on Calli.

  “I haven’t even begun to train yet,” she whispered.

  Marrec sent her the absolute confidence he gave Dark Lance, bolstering her Song. “We are Paired. We will fight together. You will never be alone.”

  She lifted her chin and stared back at Bastien. “I’m used to compe—fighting.”

  Thealia cleared her throat. “This confrontation wasn’t why I called you back in here.” She pointed to the map. “Look at the point where they’re invading. Lately they’ve been coming over the northwest border. Not today.”

  They were invading due north of Marrec and Calli’s new estate.

  Exactly.

  Thealia, Alexa and the other Marshalls went to the dining hall, ready to discuss the morning’s events. Calli sure wasn’t interested in eating again. She didn’t think that her stomach would keep much down if she thought about people and volarans fighting monsters. The few Chevaliers who weren’t flying dispersed to Horseshoe Hall or the Nom de Nom for lunch.

  So she talked to Marrec about her horses. They went to the small round pen on the Landing Field set near the corner of the stables and the western wall of the Castle. She greeted the horses, but they didn’t come to her. So she leaned on the rail, Marrec beside her, shut her eyes and sensed their moods. They were a little wary of her, she smelled different than yesterday, with Marrec’s blood trickling through her veins, Marrec’s scent on her.

  Noticing their horsey scent herself, she smiled, let the warm summer sun sink into her, existed in this moment, where she was fine, the horses were fine, the now which didn’t include fighting.

  But did include a husband. Subtly turning her head, she lifted her lashes a crack and found him looking at her, serious as always, though his mouth seemed relaxed. Then she thought about kissing that mouth, and her skin tingled.

  He chuckled, squeezed her fingers.

  She smiled and returned her attention to the horses. They’d stopped and were standing in the middle of the pen, ears pricked forward, curious. They’d been curious all night. They’d been able to see the volarans coming and going. Many of the volarans had come by and stuck their heads over the rails to look at the horses and the horses had liked that. They didn’t understand that their circumstances had changed, of course, but had been content.