This time, the mare lifted her head and nodded before returning to eat.
The filly bumped me with her nose, the sorrow and remorse radiating from her, I did the only thing I could. Reaching around her neck, I hugged her, pressing my cheek to her warm coat. At first she stiffened, startled by the sudden contact. Then, she relaxed into my touch, and I hope, finally realized that I didn’t hold her inability to completely protect me against her. Frankly, I didn’t think if the police had been there that they’d be able to stop what had happened either. I tried to mentally relay that to her.
We will fly again. I don’t want you to hurt.
I smiled, my eyes stinging with gratitude and awe at being so close to a magical creature like her. The love she enfolded me with touched me to the core. First the filly and the unicorns, then Paul and those who came with him. After being alone for so long, I suddenly realized that I’d had an entire community at my back, one that I’d never known.
“We will,” I affirmed, and before I could do something silly like kiss her on the top of her nose, I stepped away. The mare gave me an amused look that dared me to try and hug her, so I simply nodded my head. “Thank you for taking me out there last night and thank you both for stopping the boys. I know you both did so at great danger to yourself.” I paused, but really couldn’t think of anything else to say so lamely finished with, “thank you.”
You are welcome. The mare’s words resonated and followed with a slight mental push that told me I needed to get inside. I followed her directions and went indoors, tired just from the small amount of exertion I’d done. I took a few more pain relievers, then changed into a clean set of pajamas and crawled into bed.
I awakened feeling much refreshed and with a message on my phone that Etta would be arriving later in the day. There was also a voice mail from the detective that the juveniles had posted bail and were out on bond. I didn’t worry too much because an email from Paul let me know that Etta would be able to help me set wards and an outdoor utility vehicle would also be delivered, courtesy of the Albuquerque Auxiliary. That way I wouldn’t have to take my truck around the edge of the property and I’d be able to help Etta.
Which meant, I’d need a way to generate music. It was time. In the side of a closet sat a personal keyboard, not too large to balance on my lap, but with decently sized keys so I didn’t feel as if I were playing on a child’s toy. I carried it to the dining room and set it on the table, then turned it on. The batteries were still good. If I remembered correctly they were rechargeable and after playing a few notes with one finger, took them out and placed them on the charger I’d left in a dining room drawer.
The need to test my skills versus the desire to protect my knuckles had me going to the keyboard. Chopsticks sounded too simplistic, and I set out to play a piece from my childhood, one of my first solos. Though my fingers fumbled over a few of the keys, that was due to a faulty memory rather than an inability to actually play. The tempo was slow enough that I didn’t feel as if I taxed my abilities, and when the song came to the end, I realized that was the first thing I’d played in years.
I stared at my reddened and swollen knuckles, wondering just how long I would have let this disease steal a simple pleasure from me. Rising from the piano bench, I rubbed some pain cream on my hands thinking even if we played at only the beacon locations, I’d still be doing far more than I’d had in a very long time. I started to worry, to think that maybe my fingers weren’t up to the task. No, I couldn’t think that way. I couldn’t go down that road. If the filly could fly, even under the most trying of circumstances, then how could I not do this in order to attempt to protect her.
I knew what I needed to do. The song seemed fitting, reminded me of home and protection, of being solid in the work that I did. It’d been my first graded solo competition and I’d won. Certainly if anything would keep the naysayers and the danger at bay, that piece of music would be it.
The filly drank from the water trough, then settled down to nap. I thought about telling them about Etta’s arrival and our plans to set wards. They were magical creatures. They’d figure it out. I checked my email, then rested on the couch.
Which was where Etta found me. At first she worried something might be wrong. She’d heard from Paul about the attack and feared that I’d succumbed to some greater injury. I reassured her that I hadn’t, I simply wasn’t sure what our work would entail and wanted to make sure I was as rested as possible. She refused my help bringing in two duffel bags full of belongings. She mentioned a few other things in her truck, though she wasn’t worried about them, and I showed her to the bedroom she’d make hers.
On her last trip from her truck, she emerged with an older leather-bound book, a notepad and some graph paper. She sat down on the couch and immediately began using a photocopied picture of my sketch of the property to transfer it with more precision onto the graph paper. “I hope you don’t mind. We got a plat map of your property from the tax office and I printed off what your place looked like on Google Maps. With these combined, as well as the legal description, we should be able to do a good job of setting our wards and beacons.
While she worked, she explained what she wanted to do. Set wards at every corner, as well as at the midpoint of each side. That’d require my music and our working together. She set a velvet bag filled with a dozen small red stones on the table. These, she said, was what the Albuquerque Auxiliary was working on and were called beacon stones. Because of my impending position, they’d gifted these to me as a field test and we’d set them, or rather they’d set themselves, between our wards.
I was eager to see how it’d work.
Chapter Ten
The utility vehicle looked like a miniature version of a truck, only with no doors. Two cup holders were clipped to the front dash area, and I saw a second clip that’d be perfect for my cane across the top of the dash so I could reach it regardless of whether I was the driver or a passenger. Until I saw it, I had no idea just how much I needed one, or how I’d been jonesing for it. “Nice,” I said as I slid into the passenger seat. “And this is a gift from Albuquerque?”
Etta nodded, a huge grin on her face. Her hair had been pulled back into a pony tail and tucked through a loop in the back of her baseball cap. We’d both put on plenty of sunscreen, and I held the keyboard on the seat next to me. “It is. Are you ready?”
“Yep.” I glanced around, but didn’t see the equines. I’d spent some time on the back patio before everything had arrived, talking to the unicorns and the filly, letting them know what was happening and what I’d be doing. I asked that they pass the information along to the filly’s parents because I didn’t feel up to hiking that far out with such a big day planned. I’d needed to conserve my strength.
The filly had perked up when I’d told her about the wards and the beacons. She’d stood next to me, nuzzling my shoulder and arm as if I alone could protect her from people like those young men. I also let her know about the charges and that they would be punished for what they did.
Etta started the engine and the roar pulled me out of my thoughts. “I thought we’d start in the northwest corner and then work our way around the property. We’ll end up back here.”
“Sounds like a plan. I’m hoping my fingers hold out.”
Etta smiled. “Oh I think they will.”
We fell silent as the vehicle bounced over the terrain and I struggled to hold onto the keyboard. In truth, her words hit closer to home than she probably imagined. Not playing the piano in so long left muscle and brain memory weak. There was no time to worry about that now because we were passing the rebuilt shed and almost to the property line. I breathed deeply, shoved my worries and fears down and focused on centering myself. I held the image of the filly, her leg wounded by the rock salt blasts in my mind. Her fear drove me to do this. I could protect them. I would protect them.
A few moments later we arrived at the metal stake marking the corner of the property. Etta turned to me. “Yo
u can stay sitting here if you want. When I say we’re ready, you’ll need to start playing and envision safety and protection. I’ll do the rest.”
“Thanks. I can do that.” I appreciated not needing to get out of the vehicle half a dozen times, even if my cane were hooked to the dash for me to use. Finding a way to balance the keyboard and my cane wouldn’t be practical and I needed to conserve my strength. I realized then that she was a Warrior, able to take magic and shape it into offensive and defensive means. My own skills as an Influencer meant that while I could mold minds, defensive magic was probably all I could do. That I’d been able to lift the roof of the shelter still surprised me, as that was more of a Warrior’s skill.
Etta walked to the stake, then knelt down and touched it. Turning to me, she nodded. Immediately I began to play. I thought of home and safety, pulling the image of me with my arms wrapped around the filly, fierce and protective, to the forefront of my mind. Magic tingled around me, dancing over my skin and around my fingers. The scent of ozone filled the air, and when I looked up, I swore I saw the pegasus pair standing on the horizon. A moment later the magic dissipated, so quickly I’d only gotten through maybe two dozen bars of the piece.
Turning, Etta nodded to me, then got into the vehicle. “That was good work.”
With her driving and directing us, the sense that I was the student overcame me. My tenure as the director of the new facility wouldn’t be about the wise old concert pianist leading the mages. Instead, we’d all be learning, growing together and figuring out how this would work for all of us. And I liked that. After being alone for so long, the idea of having a community around me really appealed.
Following the map that we’d brought with us, Etta stopped and grabbed one of the beacon stones from the bag. She set it on the ground where I’d presume the property line was. Gathering a bit of magic in her hands, she held it over the stone and whispered, “amen dico.” The stone shimmered and as if it were a burrowing bug, went into the ground. A few seconds later, it was as if it never existed.
She returned to the vehicle with a smile. “That worked the way they said it would. Great.”
“And what will happen exactly?” I stared at the spot, dumbfounded that it’d buried itself, or hid itself, or something. Whatever it’d done, it’d accomplished it by magic.
“If danger approaches you’ll know. Trust me. You’ll know.” The way she replied made me want to ask, and yet not want to know, just how exactly I’d know. We continued onto the next point for a beacon, and then onto the far corner to set the spell into the corner post. Again the flash of white told me the unicorns and filly were nearby, though they never fully showed themselves.
By the time we returned to the house the sun had risen high in the sky and sweat dripped down my back. I wiped beneath the brim of my hat, thankful for the shade of the garage. We entered the house, both sighing at the blast of air conditioning.
The unicorns and filly were dozing on the patio. I saw them first and stopped to admire the sight of them, the warmth filling me when I thought about how they felt comfortable enough to relax on my patio, next to my house. Engrossed in the sight, it took a moment for me to register Etta had stopped next to me. Her soft gasp of delight reminded me to her presence.
“They’re beautiful,” she whispered. “Do you think—?” She reached for the glass, pressing her fingers against it.
I closed my eyes and focused, listening to see if I could hear anything. “I think so,” I answered when I heard contentment. I led her to the sliding glass door and opened it.
We moved slowly, partially because I’d belatedly realized I’d left my cane on the vehicle, and because the last thing I wanted to do at this point was startle the filly. She lifted her head and looked at me, her big dark eye unblinking.
“It’s okay. This is Etta. She’s going to be my assistant and she helped me set the wards and beacons on the property.”
Good work, the unicorn mare’s voice filled my mind, and judging from the way Etta’s eyes got wide, she heard the voice too.
“Thank you,” she said. “May I?” She stepped forward.
The unicorn mare lowered her head and must have said something to encourage Etta because she stepped forward.
I went to the filly. My ribs still hurt and the effects of riding in the utility vehicle still rattled through my bones. Still, I reached up and stroked her neck. She wrapped her head around me, pulling me close in a hug that I couldn’t help but return. Her wings rustled along her sides and I sensed eagerness.
Fly? The question filled my mind with such hope that even as tired and sore as I was, I had to say yes.
Yes. Let’s give Etta a show.
The filly stepped back, then lowered herself to her knees. I grabbed a few strands of mane and then slid aboard. With my back to her, I couldn’t see Etta turn to watch us, but I sensed her focus shift from the unicorn who was enjoying a scratch along the withers to us. I settled on the filly’s back and she rose just as gently as she had that night. I kept my head down as she stepped from beneath the roof of the patio, then straightened and titled my head to the sky, eyes closed to the let the warmth of the sun bathe me.
With a leap, almost as if she were playing, the filly stepped into a rocking canter, the gait carrying me along until she beat her wings and within a few strides we were lifting off the ground. I gasped as the thrill wound through me, the wind of our passage ruffling my hair. My hat wobbled, threatened to fly off, and I reached up to hold it onto my head.
“Oooh,” I exclaimed as we wound higher and higher. Tears stung my eyes, though I swore that it was from the wind and not from being completely overcome by emotion. My grin widened. Looking down at the tiny figures of Etta and the unicorns, she waved up to me, and I waved back, almost forgetting my hat. I caught it before it blew off.
“You’re doing it!” I cried. “You’re flying.”
The filly gave a triumphant neigh as she circled the house and flew higher. The panoramic view of my New Mexico home amazed me. And there, over a hill not far from the property line was her parents. She trumpeted another whinny to them and their answering calls delighted me. Soon, they took to the skies, flying to her and to me.
The three of us flew side by side, swooping and diving until the filly turned back to the house. Her parents landed not far from the shed. The filly brought me back home, landing and snorting, prancing in place with uncontrollable enthusiasm.
“That was amazing!” Etta ran toward us. “I want to do that someday.”
“Oh,” I answered with a grin. “I think you will.” Leaning forward, I kissed the filly on the top of her mane. She lowered herself to the ground and I slid off, my legs only marginally shaky. “Mind if I borrow an arm? I left my cane in the garage.”
“Of course.” Etta held out her arm and with a promise to come out later and give more treats to the filly, I went inside and sat at my desk. A few moments later Etta returned with my cane, then went and got us some water.
My computer chimed as my email loaded. The first message from Paul with the subject line “property acquired” made it all real. “Looks like they have the property.” I opened the email. “And building will start within a few months. I guess they had architects already drawing up plans and we’ll be going to Albuquerque in a few weeks to review them and offer suggestions.”
“Do you think we can fly?”
I laughed because really, flying into Albuquerque on the back of a pegasus seemed quite farfetched. “I think we’ll drive this time.”
Outside the pegasus filly settled down to nap, no doubt worn out by her flight. If I listened really close, I heard the gratitude from her parents. I’d saved their filly and if everything turned out well with the academy like I hoped, I’d most likely save even more of them. That may be the case, though I couldn’t deny that in the end, they’d saved me too.
She's going to have to learn to stay and fight if she wants to protect what she believes in.
Stud
ying for a semester in Costa Rica led clarinetist Tory McRains to stay in the country and make her life there. Things were simpler on her little piece of lowland rain forest with her cabin and playing gigs with her band. Then the Great Dividing occurred and magic was unleashed on the world. Secluded in the rain forest, Tory ended up with enhanced musicianship, a sometimes-sarcastic talking bearded dragon, and membership in a secret amateur radio society designed specifically for supernaturals.
When a stranger approaches her one night after her gig, she learns she's not alone and someone is after her. She'll have to learn to use all the tools at her disposal if she wants to save her rain forest home, because this is one battle where she's not allowed to run.
Learn more at http://marykitcaelsto.com/go/hidden
The lizard was always right. Even now, laying on my chest, his eyes closed in bearded dragon bliss, whatever Pito was thinking, it was right. As for me, I closed my eyes and enjoyed the dappled rays of sunlight through the forest canopy. My skin hummed with the magic of this place. My magic. Pito’s magic. It soothed me and created the little whistle in my mind that gave my lizard his name.
They’re coming, you know. You can’t escape it. Bask in the sun while you can. For soon we will chase. Pito’s sleepy words filled my mind, quite astute for such a little lizard. His mental smirk came through loud and clear.
I knew the truth in his words, had sensed it while I’d been playing the clarinet. When I didn’t lay around in a hammock and talk to my bearded dragon, I played jazz in a local club. Pito often came with me, wrapping himself around my neck and shoulder, loving the hot lights of the stage. I hummed a few bars under my breath and he bobbed his head.
The wind increased, cool outflow from a nearby thunderstorm. I turned my face into the breeze, feeling it whisk away the sweat beading on my forehead. Birds hurried into branches, anticipating the storm. This one came from Mother Nature and I knew it would leave us unharmed. It did mean, however, our time on the hammock had come to an end.
The Pegasus Project: A Musimagium Story (The Pegasus Enchantment Book 1) Page 6