Protector of the Flight

by Robin D. Owens

  That sounded even more frightening. “Absolutely not.” Calli smiled herself. “I’m not convinced this isn’t a dream.” She looked around at the color of the furnishings. “Though there’s more purple than usual in my dreams.”

  “That’s the heraldic color assigned to Exotiques, especially Marshalls. Alexa’s suite was mostly purple, she’s switched out a lot of furniture from there to here.”

  “Purple is not my color,” Calli said.

  At that moment a triangle rang. Calli sensed an inrush of bright and healthy volaran minds.

  “The Marshalls and Chevaliers have returned!” Marian said. Jaquar stood and pocketed the bottle.

  Calli ran to the window where she’d caught sight of beating wings. The whole army swooped down to the landing field out of her sight.

  I am here, too, Thunder called.

  Calli exited the opulent rooms without a backward look, running down the tower stairs to the outside door. She flung it open only to face the tall hedges of a maze.

  6

  A young woman in her mid-twenties, dressed in buff-colored Chevalier leathers, but obviously not a fighter, hovered between the hedges. Shifting from foot to foot, she smiled and bowed to Calli, then pressing her fingers to her chest, she said, “Seeva Hallard.”

  Calli nodded, probably a relation to Lady Hallard, daughter maybe. “Hey, Seeva.”

  Seeva swept a hand toward the interior of the maze and said something in the French-like language. Once again the strangeness of this place struck Calli, but when the woman took off through the maze, Calli followed. It took longer to wend their way through than Calli anticipated. Impatience to see a lot of volarans again nibbled at her. She let her mind reach and knew all the winged horses were fine. Thank God.

  Finally she and Seeva made it to the field, and all the volarans, even those being led away by grooms, stopped and turned to Calli.

  Thunder pranced up to her. His hide rippled. Grooming time. The strong scent of amber rose from him. Volaran sweat, Calli guessed.

  I’m sure, she replied to him.

  I would like a rubdown.

  He was demanding, but Calli felt indulgent. “I can do that,” Calli said, sending images of standard grooming. He whickered.

  Three people separated themselves from the rest and walked toward her—Alexa, Bastien and the older Chevalier who Calli had heard was the “representative to the Marshalls.” She wore yellow and gray. Her tunic, which Calli recalled as being pristine, was stained and torn. Yeah, she’d been fighting.

  Against monsters that Calli hadn’t seen. Yet.

  The woman shot orders to Seeva, who ran across the landing field. Calli recalled the older woman’s name was Hallard. Lady Hallard. If Calli remained in this dream, would she get a title, too?

  “Exotique,” Lady Hallard said with a little bow.

  Oh, she already had a sort of title. Exotique Calli. Exotique Alexa. Exotique Marian—Calli had heard all three of them called that. Women from Earth.

  Lady Hallard sent a stream of rapid-fire words to Alexa, who winced and kept nodding, a pained smile on her face. Then Alexa bowed to Lady Hallard, answered in a mild voice and talked a while.

  After she ended, Lady Hallard nodded, bowed again to Calli and strode away, leaving her volaran to grooms. Calli saw several people who wore her colors on an armband bow to her. The older woman waved casually to them.

  Bastien shook his head. Alexa sighed. “She said that she was told Thunder gave you a good report and she wants you to be integrated into the Chevaliers’ ranks as soon as possible. And you shouldn’t be up at the Marshalls’ keep.” Now Alexa’s smile-grimace was aimed at Calli, who wanted to pay more attention to all the volarans inching closer to ring them. The flying horses still seemed as fascinated with her as she was with them.

  “I insisted that you stay in my tower tonight,” Alexa said.

  “All right. I need to groom Thunder,” Calli said.

  “Fine.” Alexa rubbed her gauntleted hands together. “Calli, do you want Marian and me to lay all this out at once or drop it on you in little bits?”

  Calli sent Alexa a crooked smile as she stroked the exquisite softness of Thunder’s near wing. “I think this is all a dream and I’ll wake up in my own bed tomorrow morning.”

  “Not going to happen,” Alexa said.

  Bastien spoke and Alexa nodded again, this time with enthusiasm. “The more you bond with the volarans, the more you are physically aware of this world—like by grooming Thunder—the more you’ll believe you’re here. So Bastien’ll take you to the stables and teach you. Later we’ll eat in my tower with Marian and Jaquar.”

  “Jaquar speaks English.”

  “What?”

  “They made a potion—”

  “Of course they did,” Alexa said.

  “—and he tried it out. So he can speak English.”

  Alexa looked up at Calli. “Wonder how that works.”

  “Me, too.”

  Bastien gently jostled Alexa aside and offered his arm to Calli. She didn’t need it this time. She made a lead-theway gesture.

  He grabbed Alexa and kissed her hard, patted her butt and sent her off toward the maze. Apparently she didn’t groom volarans. But then, she didn’t ride them by herself, either. Interesting.

  Bastien sent a loud mental message that showed the stables. Once again the volarans began to move to the large building at the opposite end of the Landing Field. Calli blinked. Was that really the stables? It was huge. Big enough to house every volaran here, for sure.

  They walked through a corridor of volarans, with people standing behind the winged horses, staring. The folks wore a mixture of expressions. Everything from irritation and resentment to…awe? She didn’t want to be awe inspiring.

  As Calli passed, she felt soft muzzles sliding against her, sniffing. Once again overwhelming approval came as she sensed the volarans’ feelings. She smelled wonderful. Different. She’d flown with Thunder and smelled of him, too, and the mixture was lovely. She smelled sweet.

  Calli stopped. Sweet?

  Bastien chuckled, as if he heard the volarans. “Ayes,” he said, nodding. “Doose.”

  She didn’t think of herself as sweet. Tough, practical, with horse sense, but not sweet.

  Sweet. Thunder pranced by her side. I will get the best stall, with plenty of wing space.

  She stared at him, turned to Bastien. Thunder turned his head, too, and squinted at Bastien.

  Bastien grinned, showing flashing white teeth. Though he smelled of man and volaran sweat, he looked none the worse for battle…except there was dark, nasty goo on his right sleeve. He nodded. “Ayes.” He held up one index finger. “Calli.” Then he held up the other forefinger. “Thunder.” He linked them.

  Calli frowned and used wide hand gestures. “Why does Thunder get the best stall?” She said it loudly and flushed. As if speaking loudly would make someone understand your language. She lifted her shoulders high and spread her palms up.

  Bastien just winked and kept walking. Thunder said, Because I partner with you, I am the most important volaran.

  That was a little scary. She caught up with Bastien and entered the most luxurious stables she’d ever seen, but didn’t have time to linger because of the press of volarans and Chevaliers behind her.

  Babble and grooming sounds rose throughout the stables as the Marshalls and Chevaliers spent time with their volarans. Great waves of relief and love blanketed the big building. No sooner had Calli entered the large stall with Thunder and Bastien than the strikingly handsome Chevalier she’d seen during her healing leaned over the stall’s half door.

  “Salut, Bastien,” he said, looking at her.

  Bastien snorted. “Salut, Faucon.”

  Smiling, Faucon said, “Prie introd moi?”

  With a tilt of his head, Bastien replied. To her surprise, Calli found a wash of brotherly love coming her way from him. It startled and touched her. How could he like her so soon?

 
Because Thunder told Alexa and me of your flight and Alexa likes you. Bastien spoke more in Equine and images—Thunder’s idea of their flight, Alexa with her arm around Calli—but Calli got it. She turned to the back of the stall and blinked rapidly. The outpouring of feeling toward her today was nothing she’d ever experienced. Even when her fans at the rodeo yelled or clapped, it was nothing compared to this. This warmth sent to her was personal, based more on who she was than what she was…an Exotique. The Chevalier Exotique.

  There was a brief conversation, with Bastien smiling but contrary, and the handsome man moved on with irritation in his eyes and a smile on his lips.

  Then Bastien and Calli worked together. She had no trouble recognizing the standard implements hanging from the stall sides, but when she took them down, she found them a little different. The brushes were made of something she didn’t recognize—something for the feather-hide of the volarans. There was also a faint sheen on the fine bristles—oil for the feathers. Furthermore, the tools tingled in her hands. Magic.

  Grooming the horse part of Thunder went easily. They paid special attention to the hide under the wings. Thunder’s mind lightly touched both hers and Bastien’s and he helped her.

  The stall was much wider than usual and she found out why when Thunder moved to one side and stretched out a wing. Calli looked at it nervously. Shouldn’t he be able to clean them himself?

  Thunder snorted. You.

  Bastien took down a couple of fancy brushes and they flared in his hands—more magic. With exaggerated motions he taught Calli to groom the wings. He started with the undersides and moved with incredible gentleness from where the wings attached, outward to the tips of the feathers. Watching closely, Calli wasn’t sure that the brush actually touched the feathers at all, more like some sort of aura or field. Or something. She saw, she felt, but she didn’t have the words to describe.

  Yet there was a connection here, mind to mind with Thunder. Working with her hands, the brush, stroking the winged horse, made this dream seem all too real. Thunder’s muscles flexed under her fingers. The stable was full of odors—volaran sweat, human sweat and an occasional whiff of something Calli thought might be volaran shit. Not too smelly for her, but then, horse shit didn’t bother her much, either.

  By the time Marrec had sold his kill to an assayer south of Castleton and flown back to the Castle, he and Dark Lance were exhausted.

  Don’t like this long day. Dark Lance blew out a breath.

  “I don’t, either, but we must plan for the future.” If he lived long enough to have a future. One thing was certain, his bargaining skills were too damn rusty. He should have gotten more for his haul.

  He’d been stuck in a rut, living the life of a soldier attached to a Lady, with no home, no land of his own. Had somehow lost that dream. Had been spending his pay and not always collecting his kills, and taking those he had claimed to the Castle Assayer who paid a lower price. “We’ll fight until we have a stake good enough for land of our own. You’d like your own land, right?”

  Yes, but Castle is good. Walking toward the stables, Dark Lance whuffled in Marrec’s hair. Back.

  “Yes,” Marrec said. “Thank you for coming back.”

  Warm. Good food. My place low in Volaran Valley herd. Mares no look at me. My place with you high.

  “The highest. And I’ll find a mare in season for you.” Any vow was worth having his volaran stay. Dark Lance had become his highest priority.

  Too big and ugly in Volaran Valley herd.

  Surprised, Marrec stopped and looked at his steed. He was large for a volaran, but any human would consider him a good-looking flying horse. His hide and wings were solid black, with each wing feather outlined in silver. He stroked Dark Lance’s neck. “You are beautiful.”

  Humans think so. Not volarans. He rolled his dark eyes and they looked sly. You will show me to the lady of volarans and she will think me beautiful. Then I will get higher place here. And a mare.

  Marrec laughed shortly. Like master, like volaran. He was considering ways to gain status and wealth himself. “I’ll do that.” He inhaled deeply. “I’ll introduce you to the Exotique, but she will be fighting, too.” If she really was for the Chevaliers.

  Lady inside stables with Thunder and Bastien. Show me now! Dark Lance’s tone had taken on a weary stubbornness, warning Marrec it would be wise to agree.

  He wanted another look at her anyway, that incredible hair, those blue eyes. Two of the Exotiques had blue eyes. How common was that? Faint curiosity about the Exotique Terre tickled his mind. “Very well.” But he needed to press his point one more time. “The best way for us to get you a mare is to take more chances for honor on the battlefield.”

  Dark Lance shivered, but finally said, I trust you. We fight well. We will get higher place.

  So it hadn’t escaped the volaran’s notice that Marrec wasn’t exactly the alpha of his herd, either.

  “Yes.” Somehow, yes.

  Clop, clop, clop.

  Latecomers were entering the stable. When they reached Thunder’s stall, a volaran stopped and a beautiful horse head looked at her. He lifted a wing and Calli’s breath caught at his loveliness. He appeared to be night made tangible—midnight dark edged with moonlight.

  Thunder whickered. Dark Lance. An image of a sword blade etched with a streaking volaran came to Calli’s mind.

  Dark Lance whinnied and dipped his head to her. Come see me. His voice was deeper than Thunder’s.

  Though Thunder’s mind hummed with a little irritation, he sidestepped so Calli had room enough to pass him and Bastien. Gently she touched the soft nose, stroked Dark Lance.

  Beautiful Lady. The volaran’s deep voice resonated in her mind.

  “Ayes,” said the man who joined the winged horse, his large, callused hand resting on Dark Lance’s neck.

  “Salut, Marrec,” Bastien said, moving to stand beside Calli.

  “Salut, Bastien.” His gaze went to her. “Salut, Dama.” He nodded.

  She recognized another Chevalier who’d been in the healing room when she’d awakened. His leathers were old, with fine cracks and several stains. He wore an armband of yellow and gray—Lady Hallard’s colors. His face was bony, with deep-set eyes, a strong jaw and firm lips. Beneath his golden complexion was a gray tinge that spoke of exhaustion, though nothing else did about this tough, lean man. He was taller than Bastien and the other man who’d visited.

  “Salut,” she said.

  He turned his head fully to her and she saw more than weariness. Two round circles of red raised bumps showed on his far cheek.

  Bastien whistled, reached into his pocket and pulled out a tube, offered it to Marrec.

  For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, then his scarred fingers took the tube. He ducked his head to Bastien. “Merci.”

  Beautiful Lady. Dark Lance tossed his head. Beautiful Dark Lance.

  Calli and Bastien laughed and Marrec’s smile was quick and easy, lighting his serious expression. He ran a hand down his volaran’s neck in a loving stroke that Calli knew was habitual.

  Avanser. He gestured to the end of the stables. Calli heard the instruction to Dark Lance easily. The mind-tone was as caring as his fingers had been. Man and volaran moved down the stable corridor.

  Calli frowned. She’d noticed that the stalls got incrementally smaller down the line and Dark Lance was larger than Thunder. She asked Thunder a question in Equine that was becoming easier with each use.

  Low status, replied Thunder with a hint of arrogance.

  Since he included both man and volaran in the image, Calli figured the term applied to both.

  Bastien tapped her on the shoulder and indicated feed sacks and a trough at the back of the stall. As she helped him mix Thunder’s dinner, Calli wondered about rank and status and contrasted the clothing and bearing of Marrec with Faucon.

  Faucon was a noble, she was sure. He’d worn finer-grained leathers that looked newer, and heavier chain mail. His leathers had
been dyed, Marrec’s had just been cured. Faucon had not walked with a winged horse. Probably had someone else tending it. Calli smiled. His mistake.

  A small whirlwind entered the stable, Alexa, followed by the two amused Circlets. The little Marshall stomped up to the stall door. “What’s keeping you?” she asked, and repeated it in Lladranan.

  Bastien started to answer, but she cut him off, addressing Calli. “We have a lot to cover, especially since Lady Hallard insists that we tell you they want you married tomorrow evening.”

  The lulling comfort of being around volarans vanished in an instant. Warning bells rang in Calli’s head. “What did you say?”

  7

  Marian stepped up to the stall door, tsking at Alexa. “Well, that’s crude.”

  Alexa flushed. “I could’ve been cruder.”

  “Yes,” said Jaquar. “Why don’t you be? I think I’d like to know some exotique words that might excite my wife.”

  Bastien made a protest that included the word Lladranan, and Calli thought he was demanding they speak so he could understand.

  Jaquar whipped out the small bottle of language potion he’d offered Calli, jiggled it. Expressions flowed across Bastien’s face: wariness, unwilling fascination. He held up one finger.

  More discussion—and negotiating. Calli knew horse trading when she heard it, despite the language. Finally Jaquar frowned, pulled out some big coins—they looked like real gold—and handed them to Bastien. Bastien pocketed the money and stuck out his tongue.

  The tiny cork lifted with a little pop. A thread of lavender smoke puffed from the bottle. Bastien’s eyes widened, Alexa stepped closer, and Calli sidled next to Thunder, feeling better with strong, warm hors—volaran flesh at her side.

  Jaquar tipped the bottle and a drop of liquid hit Bastien’s tongue. The cork popped back into the bottle. Bastien swallowed.

  He slid down against the stall side onto the floor, grabbed his head and moaned.

  Calli and Thunder stepped back. She was glad she hadn’t tried the stuff.