“Good. Find a maidservant for her, and a man for Marrec. Alyeka and Bastien will lead. They’re the only ones with several seasoned battle volarans. Half of the older Marshalls refrained from training this morning just in case of this eventuality.” That meant three pair. “All the younger Marshalls who didn’t participate in training will go, too.”
“Twenty-four,” Marrec said. His shoulders seemed to ease. “Plenty to guard Calli.”
The quiet was broken by the alarm clanging the call to arms again. Seeva handed Calli her gauntlets and the battle helmet Calli disliked.
Marrec met her gaze, his face expressionless. He was fully helmed, gauntlets on. He held out a steady hand.
Knowing what he asked silently, feeling more than hearing the huge, overwhelming melody between them that twined with an undertone of partnership in the face of death, Calli put her hand in his. “We fight together.”
In the yard, she mounted Sunray. He was a blond sorrel…with scars. His body was muscular under hers and she merged well with his mind. Thinking of mind-merging talent, she glanced left to where Marrec and Dark Lance flew in a bubble of Distance Magic. Sunray, too, was strong in this Power. He was fresh, and excited to be her partner to her first battle. Beneath that excitement she sensed determination to “blood” her—introduce her to combat as easily as possible.
Calli snorted. Like that wasn’t going to be a culture shock. She set her back teeth. She’d get through this and only hoped that no one she knew fell. That would be the hardest, and that circled back to the question she wanted to ask about Marwey, the youngster best in mind-merging. Testing her bond with Marrec, she found him focused but not deeply entranced.
Marrec, she mind-whispered.
He turned his head, his deep brown eyes meeting hers. Serious.
Marwey won her reins this morning. Is she flying to battle, too?
He tilted his head, and she heard distant echoes of those who were linked with him and her in a loose net of Chevaliers who would work in a team. Not nearly as close as the Marshalls’ ties.
Alyeka—everyone—wishes to protect Marwey as long as possible. She and Pascal remain at the Castle.
Nodding, Calli looked forward again at the curve of her own Distance Magic bubble that showed blurred blue sky and green land with hints of snow-topped mountains. She’d be the only one experiencing her first battle then. She let out her breath with a slow and easy exhalation. She’d be protected, too. Physically. She was pretty darn sure that this was going to take a toll emotionally. The Calli who flew back to the Castle would not be the same person as she was now.
She rolled her shoulders, shaking off the thought, and decided that there was too much thinking time. How did Alexa get through it? How did Bastien? Both were very action oriented.
Marrec’s mental touch soothed Calli, as if he ran a hand down her back. Trance. Follow our exercises. All three of them—Marrec and Dark Lance and Sunray—began a measured human-equine chant that slowed her mind; panic kept her anticipation from turning into fear, lowered her energy level—for now. Everything was being tucked away, stored, so they could explode into action when the time came. Images of past fights came to her from the others and she let them drift and disappear without scrutinizing them. Only one thought stayed in the back of her mind. This was payment for her new life.
All too soon, Marrec and she banished the distance magic. Lush summer grass was shorter here up north, and white-capped mountains scraped the sky. The winged horses flew down to a patch of land that showed small forms fighting—Chevaliers, Marshalls and horrors. Adrenaline flooded her, the mist of her trance-thoughts vanished as if touched by the scorching sun of fear.
We outnumber them. Marrec’s jaw was set. He loosened his sword in his scabbard.
Not by much. There must have been two dozen monsters down there. Real slayers and renders and soul-suckers.
Why don’t we use arrows or throw spears? It wasn’t something she’d thought of before, but looked like a real good option now.
They are bespelled against arrows. Have always been after the first invasion.
Calli’s palms dampened inside her leather-lined gauntlets; she unsnapped the straps holding her sword immobile for traveling. Lady Hallard, now ahead of them and leading a second wave of Chevaliers, drew her sword and screamed a battle cry, sending her volaran slanting down at a large group of monsters. Faucon had taken the right side of the battlefield, Alexa and the Marshalls the center. Marrec followed Lady Hallard. They were only a few minutes behind the first attack.
The colors of carnage—red blood, yellow ichor, acid-green splotches, sluggish gray puddles from twitching severed tentacles—pooled on the ground.
Sing! commanded Sunray.
Shield! The defensive sphere snapped hard around Marrec and herself. He grinned, showing teeth, swinging his sword, decapitating a slayer. Swung to his left, fighting two renders and a soul-sucker. The soul-sucker’s tentacles slid off Marrec’s Shield.
Good. Good, Sunray sent, holding back, like other Shield volarans.
Calli struggled with horror, with terror, with nausea. She saw a horse-rider pair go down. Her throat closed.
Closest local lord, Sunray said, but his thoughts, too, edged with black fear. We are too far into Lladrana.
Calm! She sent the emotion…knew it was only the thin skim of her own surface emotion. Everything deeper was roiling—shock as she saw spines of a slayer nearly penetrate Marrec’s shield. She used a spurt of pure fear to fling the darts away, killed a render with them and froze an instant. Only the quick reflexes of a man on the ground had saved him from her missiles!
She had to think, but panic bubbled up. This wasn’t a thirteen-second ride. This was a long haul.
Sunray backwinged, banked. Wobbled. Her emotions were affecting him! She’d lost sight of Marrec.
Volarans were on each side of her—Marshall Shields—crowding her, crowding Sunray, turning them back to the fight where her husband risked his life.
He still attacked, killed two soul-suckers, sent chunks of them flying.
The Songs saved her. The strong one coming to her from Marrec, the Shields and their volarans brushing her mind like soft feathers. Fear diminished slightly and the trickle of notes became streams of fierce Power, merging into battle music. Brass harmonics rang in her head, steadied her. She would not run. She would stand—and fly.
There was a scream above her. A shadow fell on Marrec, on herself and the two Shields.
“Fire dreeth!” yelled the woman on her right…pulled away…drew her baton.
The long neck of the pterodactyl-like horror snaked. Beak with wicked teeth snapped. Marrec ducked. His shield took a hard hit that struck Calli on the chest. She sucked air. Think! She had to think. They’d practiced this.
Marrec cut a slayer in two. Dark Lance angled sideways.
Fire blackened the corpses around him, ashed a volaran-Chevalier pair.
Calli fought down a screech. Pushed back grief. Refused to let the last screams of the volaran and Chevalier echo in her head.
Anger trickled through her terror, and it was good, cleansing, supporting.
Two streams of Power—sapphire and gold—flashed from batons to the left and right of her, hit the fire dreeth. It cried in pain, in fury.
Face savage, Marrec and Dark Lance shot toward the dreeth’s underbelly, dodged the spiny tail. Fire breath singed Dark Lance’s outermost wingtip. He screamed, too, in pain, in defiance.
Showtime.
She wasn’t thinking now, but listening to the surging Power fueled by the determination that ruled the battlefield. Calli grabbed the remnants of fire, twisted them, flung Power into them like gunpowder, sparking the flames like fireworks, turning them back on the dreeth. It shrieked in terror, tried to backwing.
Marrec, face grim, ducked under the fiery explosions and ripped the monster from throat to crotch. Gray-green guts pushed through the breach, glistening twists.
The dreeth went up li
ke a torch, plummeted.
Other horrors were killed as it landed. The sound of the impact shuddered through the air.
Marrec and Dark Lance whirled, but there were no other dreeths.
Done! Huge relief poured from him to her. Battle over.
Calli tore her gaze from him, swept the land with a glance. Alexa and Bastien stood in the middle of the field, themselves surveying the remnants of battle. Alexa looked grim, but neither of them had wounds. Calli’s breath escaped in little puffs. “It’s over.”
No Marshalls’ batons rose from the land—none of them had died. Five swords showed where Chevaliers had perished, along with their volarans. A horrible ache throbbed through her entire body. One of her volaran partnering pairs was dead.
Sunray landed. Dark Lance did, too, but held his left wing awkwardly, away from his body.
One of the young Shieldmarshalls—the one with the golden baton—handed Calli a bag. “Volaran Burn Balm.” Her smile was strained. “Recently developed by the Castle medicas.”
This Calli could do. She stroked Sunray’s neck, praising him. He stood calmly, a few twitches of his muscles showing the effects of battle, but mind serene.
She dismounted, wanting to fling herself in Marrec’s arms, but reckoned that was too emotional for everyone else. Besides, he was on the far side of Dark Lance, examining the wing. She kept her show smile on and stiffened her legs, getting the feel of the uneven ground before she walked around to Dark Lance.
“Not too bad,” Marrec said.
Dark Lance shifted and Calli smelled burnt feathers. Her heart pounded. It rose from the battlefield, too. Dead volarans. Hurt volarans. She’d never thought in her life that the smell of burnt feathers would forever mean grief.
She licked her lips, tried her voice as she opened the bag, which she realized was soul-sucker skin. She couldn’t suppress the quick shudder.
“You all right?” Marrec’s eyes were dark, in their depths was the lingering heat of fighting.
“Ayes.” That was barely audible. She cleared her throat. “Ayes.”
He nodded, then returned to examining Dark Lance’s wing.
The bag was filled with a clear gel-like substance. She scooped some into her palm and onto her fingers.
With his right hand, Marrec held Dark Lance’s wingtip steady. His left hand closed over hers. His fingers, too, trembled slightly from the aftermath of battle. “The feathers are gone, the bone a little scorched, but nothing permanent.” He pulled his gaze from hers to look down at the wing. “This new stuff should heal it right up. Especially with a little Power from us.”
Calli slathered on the ointment. Dark Lance’s wing rippled under her fingers. She touched bone and they all flinched. She reached for more, but Marrec stayed her hand. “The cost is dear. Let’s Sing.”
A grunt came from Alexa as she strode up. Her lips had curved slightly. She jerked her head at the dreeth. “You are now a wealthy man.”
Marrec’s breath came out on a shudder.
Alexa tilted her head at the dreeth. “These don’t burn as well as the big ones, so you can harvest more. Of course, my first dreeth was bigger.” She winked at Calli, but Calli got images from Alexa that the smaller woman had been just as scared as Calli was, and more—Alexa had been afoot and certain the dreeth would crush her to death.
Marrec’s fingers touched the back of Calli’s hand and the simple comfort of the gesture had bigger ripples of emotions washing through her. “Let’s Sing,” he said.
He led her into a simple healing chant. Calli raised her voice with his, steadied it, let the harmony of the music they made together sink into her. Dark Lance whuffled. The pain had greatly lessened for him until it was something he thought wasn’t too bad. Calli reckoned that had Thunder been experiencing the hurt, he’d be stamping and giving voice to discomfort. But Dark Lance had been wounded before.
As had Marrec.
Both of them considered this injury light.
When Marrec and she were finished with the third round, they stopped.
People had gathered and the general murmur was that the wingtip was well tended. Marrec folded Dark Lance’s wing against his barrel, then he and Calli wiped their hands on a towel and Calli gave the pouch back to the Shieldmarshall.
Alexa cleared her throat and something about the noise made Calli stiffen and meet her eyes, which showed a little regret. “The blooding,” Alexa said.
Calli had forgotten the blooding. She straightened, every muscle tense. She did not want any horror’s blood on her. Too bad.
Marrec stooped, rose. His hand whipped up, finger yellow with ichor. He dabbed a bit above Calli’s right eyebrow. It stank of death rotting. Calli swallowed bile, tightened her throat and stomach, refused the gag reflex.
A cheer rose, full of satisfaction and Song. It sounded nothing like a rodeo audience. Calli preferred clapping.
Marrec wiped his hand on a handkerchief then held her, and she leaned into his strength.
“How close are we to home?” she asked.
“We’re east of the spur. And north.” He whispered against her hair, stirring it until she tingled.
She heard what he didn’t say. “Not far enough north.”
“No, this is one of the southernmost incursions we’ve fought.”
Alexa turned a little to stare at the white-peaked mountains rising high into the horizon, frowning. “I’d heard that the horrors could…um…‘rise’ from the ground the farthest they had penetrated Lladrana, but I’d never seen it before.”
“Ayes,” said Lady Hallard. “I think we fought in this place pretty soon after we discovered the fence posts were falling.” Her expression hardened. “We must ensure that the horrors can never penetrate any farther south.” After another sweeping study of the battlefield, she said, “As I recall, the previous invasion was worse, and we lost more people.” She stared at the dreeth. “Though we didn’t have any dreeths, let alone a fire dreeth.” Slapping her gauntlets against her leg, she looked at Calli and Marrec and said, “I have a suspicion that the dreeth was for you. That all of this was for you.”
Marrec seemed to turn to rock against her. “What do you mean?”
23
“Retrousse,” Marrec said. “A place where the monsters were conjured to, not tramping over the border themselves.”
Looking at the solid range of mountains to the north, Calli said, “No chance of that. No pass.”
“No pass,” Alexa said at the same time.
Thealia said, “This is the first retrousse ground battle—where the horrors were magically sent to a place that had been the stage of a previous battle—we’ve had since the first Exotique—” she nodded at Alexa “—came. That the dreeth—a horror we haven’t seen lately—manifested over you, on the left wing of the battle, not in the middle of the field. And this invasion was within a few minutes of our Chevalier Exotique receiving her reins.”
Calli turned to face everyone, Marrec warm and solid at her back. “You think the…Dark…knew somehow that I might fly to fight?”
“That this was a trap like those inside the Castle?” asked Alexa, her green eyes very wide as she fixed her gaze on Lady Hallard.
The Lady shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Another trap, sprung because someone in the Castle is in touch with the Dark forces,” Alexa said. “To try and destroy Calli.” She lifted her nose, sniffed. “Retrousse makes a place smell different.”
“It would be interesting to know the history of this land,” Marrec said. “How many battles were fought here throughout the ages.”
“The landowner and most of her people are dead,” said Faucon, joining them. “I was just speaking with the woman’s page. Not even her squire survived.” Marrec’s arms tightened around Calli’s waist, making her nausea worse. She struggled against him. He flinched, then let her go. Clammy sweat filmed her skin. She turned her head, strove not to vomit.
Alexa shoved an unstoppered canteen in her hand. “Drink
this. Bespelled mint water. It’ll help.”
The liquid was cool down her tight throat, tasted good, but now she had the pale shakes.
“You don’t look so good, girlfriend,” Alexa said.
“Home.” Calli backed closer to Marrec until his body was once again against hers as she looked up at his square jaw. “I want to go home. A coupla days ago the staff said the house would be ready by now. I want to go home.”
Lady Hallard frowned. “We should have a war council on this.”
Alexa and the rest of the Marshalls nodded.
“Do it without us. You can tell us of the results later.” Last thing she wanted to do was fly back to the Castle to sit inside for an hours-long meeting.
“Bastien, can we keep Sunray overnight?” Marrec asked.
“Of course,” Bastien said.
Sunray, would you fly with us to our new home?
Yes! Sunray lifted his wings in excitement.
“Burning dreeth is almost out,” Bastien said. “Storm’s coming in. The rain’ll take care of the rest of the flames.” He gestured to the clouds rolling in, big and puffy and dark gray.
“The local manor is available if we want to stay the night. War council there,” Faucon said.
“Guess we’d better,” Bastien said.
Lady Hallard snorted. “I hope they have minstrels who know the local history.”
“Or Lorebooks,” Alexa said. She reached out and grabbed Bastien’s hand, her smile resigned. “I’d like to go home, too, but it looks like we’re staying.”
Marrec nodded shortly. “We’ll be back midmorning tomorrow to harvest the dreeth, since only those who killed it can do so.” He lifted Calli, waved at Dark Lance to back up, then set her atop Sunray. “Let’s go.”
He’d said those words earlier, to go to fight, and she’d agreed and followed him. She found his hands and squeezed, bringing his gaze to hers. He yearned for home, too, that Song rose from him. She replied as she thought she’d reply for the rest of her life. “We’ll go together.”
Raindrops splattered around them. The edge of the storm had reached them.
Protector of the Flight Page 22
