by Tj Shaw
With a final pat, he spurred his Criton upward. Since he couldn’t follow them into the forested valley, he’d either have to fly over it to catch them on the other side or give up the chase. Even at full speed, he doubted they would find their little lemming. With a regretful sigh and a twinge of remorse, he steered FireStrike toward his men. He would have liked to meet the rider. She had courage. When he reached Brookshire, he would ask King McKay about the girl who rode a Criton with the fearless skill of a battle-trained warrior.
2 – FIRESTRIKE
Carina released Mira in one of the Criton cliff dwellings farther away from the castle and raced down the obscure trail snaking along the side of the mountain. She ignored the Critons who screeched as she ran by or groaned in irritation when she pushed them out of the way. When she reached the road leading home, she slowed and veered toward the main stables.
She walked in the shade of a large barn, enjoying the season of the harvest. Warm weather still gripped the afternoon hours, but an unmistakable chill now lingered in the morning. All too soon the leaves would change color and drop, exposing bare branches and abandoned tanagers’ nests to the environment as the Mother Source prepared for the season of sleep and rejuvenation. But not today. She smiled and tilted her head to enjoy the sun’s warming rays on her face.
As she walked past the barn door, a threatening growl from a Criton inside disturbed her thoughts and she hesitated at the entrance. She peered into the building, but the shadowy darkness hid the occupant. Although she wanted to see who made the sound, she needed to get home to prepare for King Duncan’s formal greeting. She bit her lower lip and looked for the Criton’s owner, but only spied a stable boy and his yapping warrigal ambling toward an ovine pasture.
She puffed her cheeks out with air before exhaling. Curiosity, always her downfall, overrode better judgment. She entered the vast shelter and paused just inside the double doors so her eyes could adjust to the dim light. The barn smelled of stale straw, aged wood, and worn leather. She ventured deeper and discovered the single tenant in the first stall. An enormous red Criton stared at her.
She stood in front of the great animal within easy reach of his snapping jaws and gazed into his big eyes. His aristocratic head towered above her, yet she didn’t fear him. Using the shafts of light filtering in through the small windows spaced along the walls above her, she noted every detail of his defined body with an experienced eye.
His small front claws, located in the bend of his wings, rested on the ground. She admired the shimmer of light reflecting off the thin membrane of skin and muscle connecting the fragile-appearing bones of his powerful wings. His tail tapered down to the classic diamond-shaped flap of skin that enabled him to maneuver with the dexterity necessary to locate the slightest air current.
But his regal head captured her attention. An exceptional specimen, his ruby eyes regarded her with a calm, quiet wisdom. The distinctive red band, darker than his body color, rimmed the bottom of his eyes and trailed down the sides of his face like war paint. A small ridge ran the length of his snout, ending at his nostrils, and a short, blood-red mane covered his neck. Although pitched forward, his small ears could swivel in almost a complete circle.
“Aren’t you beautiful.”
The Criton lifted his head higher in a definite “I know I am” response, and she smiled. She extended her hand for him to smell. He lowered his massive head, inhaled her scent, and sighed, apparently satisfied she wasn’t a threat.
She stroked the soft, downy hair on his thick neck. “I bet you’re wonderful to ride.”
“He is,” boasted a male voice from the doorway.
Startled by the unexpected intrusion, Carina yanked her hand off the Criton like she’d been scalded by boiling water and stared at the straw-littered, dirt floor. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean any harm.”
The steady clomp of footsteps approached until a pair of black boots stood in front of her.
“I’m surprised FireStrike let you pet him. He’s very particular.”
Her courage rose when she didn’t detect any anger from the rider for touching his Criton. “He’s magnificent.” She smiled, venturing an upward glance. Her breath caught as a sudden awareness of the man standing before her warmed her body.
His dark, brown hair, blown into a roguish dishevelment, gave her the impression of a lad coming in from the fields after a hard day playing. But the disarray suited him. He wore all black leather except for a tan shirt with a v-shaped, loosely-tied collar. His duster, a long riding jacket much like her split tail, displayed the Duncan insignia—a red Criton breathing fire. Specks of dust from the journey dotted the duster, adding to his boyish charm. His broad shoulders tapered to a compact waist before flaring down to sturdy legs.
“Aye, he is,” the man replied, stroking FireStrike’s neck.
“Are you bonded?” The intrusive words tumbled out of her mouth without thought.
“We are. Why aren’t you afraid of a Criton you don’t know?”
She shrugged. “I’ve never been afraid of Critons.”
“Then you are either our next Caller or a fool.”
She clamped her teeth together and bit back the choice words burning at the tip of her tongue. How dare he call her a fool. Her spine stiffened. She pinned the rider with a stern glare and balled her hands into fists. “I suggest you watch what you say when speaking to King McKay’s daughter.”
The man bowed with a slight tilt of his head. “Lady Marissa, forgive my indiscretion.”
Carina swallowed the groan threatening to push past her lips. Her eyes traveled down the interior of the barn to stare at the empty stalls, like silent sentinels waiting for occupancy. She reached for her Criton necklace, clutching it for reassurance. The only remaining keepsake that once belonged to her mother, the precious medallion never left her neck. “Marissa is my older half sister.”
“I didn’t know King McKay had another daughter. May I ask your name?”
“Carina.”
“Well, I imagine King McKay has had his hands full with suitors then.”
She glanced up to determine if he mocked her, but witnessed a sincere smile and sparkling, green and grey-flecked eyes. Small lines around his eyes, either from laughing or spending hours in the sun, hinted at a maturity beyond his years. His eyes with those alluring specks glimmered down at her and a curious smile played across his mouth. Her lips curved into a small grin.
He chuckled. “Well, Lady Carina, the men are resting in a lower field waiting for instructions. Since I couldn’t find anyone to acquaint me with your father’s holdings, would you be so kind to offer that courtesy?”
Her heart stumbled. Never in her life had anyone spoken to her in such a kind, respectful manner. “Well…Father would want to escort you himself, but he took Marissa to see Father Augustus for a fertility blessing.”
The man’s eyes widened. “Is that so?” He laughed.
“Yes, you know, because King Duncan is here to court Marissa.” She stared at this brown-haired man with a furrowed brow. As a member of King Duncan’s legion, how could he not know the reason his king had traveled here?
“Aye, of course. And we did arrive early, which explains why no one greeted us. I guess that leaves you to guide me.” He extended his arm.
After a small pause, she placed her hand on his leather-clad forearm and tried to calm the rabble of danaines dancing in her stomach. His breathtaking smile as a reward for her courage stunned her senses. But the world stopped moving and the air stilled in her lungs when his fingers grazed across the back of her hand before motioning in front of him.
“Where do we go from here, my lady?”
3 – WALK
Carina squirmed at the blatant stares from the servants as she guided King Duncan’s man around the grounds. She’d never escorted anyone before, let alone a soldier who displayed such courtesy, and his special attention made her jittery. But his casual manner calmed her nerves, and after showing him the castle a
nd main grounds, she felt comfortable enough to ask for his name.
He frowned at her question. Her stomach churned in turmoil thinking she’d been too forward. But he surprised her.
“Call me Marek,” he answered with a casual shrug.
She blushed at the familiarity he bestowed upon her and whispered his name under her breath.
As she led him toward the pastures and rockier areas, she pointed to the barracks where Duncan’s men would stay. They continued their walk down a narrow roadway until Marek stopped at a fence next to a mountainous outcropping leading to several Criton lairs. Ovine grazed in the field.
Her chest swelled when she noticed his eyes light up at the impressive array of Critons flying overhead or perching on rocky knolls. “Father says we have the largest unbonded nest around.”
“I agree. But I’d prefer to see more adults with bonded riders.”
She nodded. “I wonder what happened to the Caller.”
Marek rested a hand on the top post railing. “No one knows.”
“It’s a shame Callers cannot Criton-bond.”
“I guess a Caller’s burden is to only see the tether between rider and Criton.”
Although she didn’t totally understand the complexity of Criton-bonding, the enormity of the joining still awed her. A hollow ache filled her chest as she stared at the pasture. “I know. But it’s kind of sad, don’t you think? To have the ability to see the connection between two separated souls and bring them together for the bonding, yet never able to experience it?”
Marek’s lips twitched into a soft smile. “I suppose never joining in the communion could be disappointing. Powerful Callers can bond with a lifemate,” he added in an encouraging tone.
They slipped into a comfortable silence as a black Criton named Midnight dove from a ledge and grabbed an unsuspecting ovine in his mouth before the herd could scatter. Carina watched the Criton carry the bleating animal back to his den. The ovine kicked and thrashed until Midnight’s jaws closed and the animal stilled.
Although ovine served as food, Carina hated to see an animal die and offered a silent prayer to the Gods. When she turned her attention back to Marek, he was staring at her with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. “What?”
He shrugged and continued to eye her. “Most women are too squeamish to observe Critons feeding.”
Exactly what did he mean? That something was wrong with her because she didn’t swoon at the sight? “Well, how else are they to live?” she snapped with a defiant tilt of her chin. “And I prayed for the ovine, asking that it receive eternal blessings. Did you bestow such a request?”
She jerked her hand off his arm and stood glaring at him through narrowed eyes.
Marek threw his head back and roared with laughter. “I’m humbled by your kindness for the poor animal. Please, forgive my insult for that wasn’t my intent.”
The warmth in his voice radiated over her, while his smile crinkled the tiny lines around his eyes. Her heart fluttered. A blush heated her cheeks. “And I’m sorry for my outburst.” She glanced away to hide her embarrassment.
In an unexpected movement, he cupped her chin with his hand and forced her to look into his intense eyes. “Never apologize for speaking your mind, Lady Carina.”
She stopped breathing. Her body blazed as if she’d been seared by the white-hot fire of Criton flame. He smelled like an evergreen forest, sunlight on a spring day, the anticipation before the rain—like freedom. She could drown in those eyes with the interesting grey specks that revealed an undeniable passion, a true pathway to what lay hidden within his soul.
He smiled, breaking the moment, and placed her hand back on his arm.
As they wandered toward the medical barn, she grumbled, “Well, maybe I’d get into less trouble if I didn’t speak out so much.”
Marek’s laugh filled her with unexpected pleasure and she laughed with him.
They had almost reached the barn when her thoughts returned to the Caller. “They say she went searching for her lifemate and looks for him still.”
Marek’s brows furrowed. “My lady?”
“The Caller. They say her love for all eternity was lost in battle and she went looking for him and won’t stop searching in this life or the next until she finds him and their hearts are reunited.”
They paused at the double doors as danaines fluttered around them, flitting from flower to flower. The sweet smell of hay drifted on the breeze blowing in off the Arrakan Mountains and rustled the leaves in nearby trees. Even the tanagers were enjoying the day as they jumped from branch to branch, chirping to each other.
“Well, they also speak of Critons twice as large as ours, and little blue sprites that once lived in the forests, and that the Caller fell under the spell of the Naiads and jumped into the Locksneed River.” Marek shook his head. “No, I think what you speak of is just folklore, an invented tale to explain the unexplainable.”
“Even so, I hope she found him and they’re together again,” Carina mumbled, uncomfortable for revealing a childhood dream.
“Aye, looking for love is by far the best reason to leave the kings of this land struggling to defend their borders.”
She stole a quick glance at Marek. His hooded eyes seemed lost in thought. Was he a casualty of lost love? She’d never be such a victim since she’d never marry. She tried to ignore the self-pity that settled in her stomach. At least she had Mira and the other Critons to comfort her.
“We bring our sick or hurt Critons here,” she informed him as they entered the airy building. As if on cue, a young Criton stood in a stanchion. Carina’s heart constricted. The healer was monitoring her beloved Mira. She released Marek’s arm and rushed over to the animal. Mira lowered her head and Carina dutifully scratched behind an ear.
“What’s wrong?” Carina asked.
Abbey, King McKay’s best healer, finished running her hands along Mira’s flank. Abbey spoke in a soothing voice. “Mira grows into her junior years and will transition into adulthood soon. I need to determine when we should place a watch on her.”
The healer’s long robes tumbled forward as she pulled her brown, velvet-trimmed hood over her head. She placed a gnarled hand on Carina’s shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, your Criton is still a few weeks away from transition.”
Abbey turned to Marek and bobbed her head in greeting before leaving.
Marek rubbed Mira’s nose. “You seem very fond of this Criton.”
“Oh yes.” Carina grinned. “Father and some of his men found her orphaned when she was young. Father wanted to leave her, but I convinced him to let me keep her.”
“Well, you’ve done an excellent job raising her.” With a final pat, he turned toward the doorway and extended his arm.
She planted a quick kiss on Mira’s nose before curling her hand around Marek’s bicep. The little Criton snorted in agitation as they walked away, and Carina rolled her eyes. “Mira doesn’t like being inside,” she muttered, justifying her friend’s behavior.
She looked at Marek. He was staring at her again with those piercing eyes, as if trying to penetrate her defenses and spy upon her innermost secrets. Self-conscious, she peered at the ground. She never should have kissed Mira farewell. What an unladylike thing to do.
“Did you know that we spotted a Criton rider at your border when my men and I entered King McKay’s territory?”
Her heart hiccupped. She’d get into trouble if Father discovered she’d defied his no Criton riding mandate. She continued to survey her feet, but could sense him probing her. In a weak attempt at deflection, she guided the conversation away from its current direction. “You said your men.” She glanced up to focus on the waiting eyes of the man accompanying her. “Does that mean you’re Captain of the Guard?”
He smiled and his expression softened. “Aye, I guess you could say that.”
“Oh my,” she whispered and then wanted to kick herself for sounding so childish.
&nb
sp; “Now, as for that rider,” he continued. “We gave chase, but she eluded us.”
She tried not to smile at the frustration coloring his words. She was very proud of escaping King Duncan’s men.
“The rider had long, brown hair…much like yours. And the little Criton she rode looks a lot like the one we just left in the barn. Do you know anything about that?”
Her heart thumped in an erratic rhythm as they wandered toward the main house. She inhaled the cool, harvest day air deep into her lungs, struggling to think of an answer that wouldn’t incriminate her. Deciding avoidance was her best option, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind an ear and ignored his question altogether. “Mira does fly fast.”
Marek stopped and stood in front her. His lively eyes hardened into green ice, the grey flecks like little pokers boring into her. “It’s not safe for you to ride alone so close to your father’s border. You should never leave without an escort.”
She stared into his determined face and her resolve crumbled on a defeated sigh. “But Father doesn’t let me ride. He says riding confuses the Critons, so they might not rider-bond.” Once she started, the words spilled out. She couldn’t stop herself. “I don’t know what I’d do if I couldn’t fly. I only ride Mira since she’s small and no one wants her, I swear.”
Her other hand reached out to clutch his arm. “Father says Mira won’t amount to anything, and I don’t mean any harm by it.” Her grip tightened, as if by squeezing harder she could convince him that for a few hours a day riding freed her from a life filled with loneliness and boredom.
“Flying means that much to you?” His voice lowered and his lips pressed together in a firm line. “To cause you to disobey your father and place your life at risk?”
She blinked back tears as her heart tumbled into her stomach, and glanced toward the hunting pastures stretched out in the lower fields. She had displeased this man, and for some unknown reason felt horrible about it. Except for flying, she always obeyed her father. She went out of her way to vie for his attention and gain his acceptance, but nothing she did earned his favor. And now, she’d disappointed the only man who had ever shown her any measure of respect. She chastised herself for even considering a Captain of the Guard would be interested in her anyway.