Protector of the Flight

by Robin D. Owens

  Calli entered their home. Marrec stared at it, disconcerted. A large three-story mansion of gray stone, it was far beyond what he’d ever aspired to and he wondered if he’d ever feel comfortable in it. He snorted. He’d feel more at home in the three-room shed off the stable that was the size of the cottage he grew up in.

  But only he and she were here from the Castle. It was safe, and that was the most important thing.

  Squaring his shoulders, he walked through the door with a trace of swagger that he borrowed from Bastien. He wouldn’t let the imposing house erode his self-confidence. This was his home. If he hadn’t been worthy of this place, Thunder wouldn’t have pushed Calli and him to choose it. Those words came far too often to his mind. He’d soon have to shake off this doubt or others would see it. That could erode the respect he’d garnered just from being Pairbonded with Calli. He was a good Chevalier, now he needed to become a great Chevalier. Clenching his jaw, he vowed to be up to the task.

  This time the door opened smoothly on oiled hinges. The entry hall was clean, though some of the stone squares making up the floor showed scars and pits. The wide stone banister was equally worn.

  But the floor and banister were polished, the walls painted a soft cream color. He’d wanted whitewash, just to show how pristine his home was, no more living with stains. Calli had been right, there, too, the creamy color made the place more welcoming. The scent of mildew had been replaced by the aroma of fresh herbs.

  Calli stood in the center of the hallway, hands on hips, turning around. He studied her aura, her stance, listened carefully to her Song that always murmured in his heart. She’d set the memories of the battle aside. He had no doubt they’d return, perhaps in nightmares as his did occasionally, but for now she was focused on the house. Their home.

  The faint footfalls of a maid came from the second floor and Marrec frowned. He’d forgotten that they needed new rugs. Something to discuss with Calli. He’d begun to like their talk almost as much as their sex.

  “Gina’s freshening up the bedroom for us,” Calli said, rolling her shoulders. “I’d love a bath.”

  He sighed. This manor, like many others, had been built on land with natural hot springs. To Calli’s delight, a fussy glass house enclosed the bathing pool, which was surrounded by rough granite rock with green and orange lichen growing on it, like it was outdoors. Marrec suspected that this room itself would have sold her on the place. They’d ordered new panes to replace cracked and broken ones, and Marrec was glad it was summer.

  “I’m sure that the shower in our suite has been repaired,” he said. “Bath.”

  “Since it’s just the two of us.”

  She flushed a little, and that was as fascinating as usual. “Yes. Since it’s just the two of us. I told my maid not to interrupt us.” Her cheeks pinkened further and his body stirred.

  “Good.”

  “There’s stew for dinner.”

  “Good.”

  She sighed, glanced around again. “Not quite home yet, but we’ll make it one.”

  “Yes.”

  Marrec lay in bed listening to Calli’s even breathing. The house was quiet. He was used to the muted bustle of Horseshoe Hall, of Lady Hallard’s manor, but since neither Calli nor he was accustomed to servants, they had kept their staff at a minimum. Only four lived in the house, and the aged caretaker in a gatehouse.

  Calli had inspected the stables with space for both volarans and horses. Unlike the stables at the Marshalls’ Castle, this one alternated large stalls for volaran and horse. That was the setup Marrec liked the best, and Calli had listened to his advice and agreed. If anything happened to the stables, the volarans might be able to save the horses if they were all together. He’d followed Calli as she scrutinized the work they’d paid for on the horse paddocks and arena, the volaran space, the other outbuildings. For both of them these had been the priority, even more than the house or hiring servants.

  The long slow note of the mountains sifted into him. It had been a long time since he’d lived near mountains. Dread had clenched his gut when he’d seen that their valley was bordered on three sides with peaks. They weren’t quite the size of the great northern range, of the peaks he’d loved as a child…before. Another thing he was determined to become accustomed to. He’d cherished the sight of sunrise and sunset colors on white-capped mountains once, he must not let the past continue to take that joy from him. He’d relearn it. And with another level of acceptance of his new future, he slid into sleep.

  Something woke him. A sound, a Song, he thought. He strained to listen. The rain poured outside the window, splattered against the panes as the wind shifted, dripped from the eaves. No pings from frinks. That was good.

  Gardpont. The mental call didn’t tell him much—a rough male whisper edged with desperation. Marrec slid from the bed and pulled on his trousers, shrugged into a shirt and drew on his old boots, buckled his knife belt.

  Dark Lance whinnied with fright, demanding reassurance from Marrec. Someone comes.

  Easy. Sense him for me, check if you recognize his Song.

  At Marrec’s quiet tone, the volaran settled. Cocked his ears, sniffed. Marrec hurried from the suite. Stopped. Turned and locked the door. Shielded it with the best protection spell he had.

  Now Sunray, closer to the stable doors, sent him jittery images. I don’t know him.

  I have heard this man’s Song before, Dark Lance said. But he is not happy…and there are two Songs.

  By this time Marrec was at the door nearest the stables, putting on a slicker cape, grabbing one of the new cowboy hats Calli had given him. He stepped into the rain, sending a widespread probe for danger. Vague movement, black against black, a man stumbling, a thin cry, made his belly tense. He fingered the hilt of his knife. Looking away from the stables, he hummed a lightball spell.

  The other exclaimed in surprise. Hit the stable wall with his shoulder. Leaned there. “Gardpont?”

  “I’m here.” His eyes now accustomed to the dim light, Marrec saw the man huddled in a royal-blue cape, his arms full of a bundle. “Who are you?”

  “Gentral.”

  The tension at the base of Marrec’s spine eased. He’d flown into battle with the minor noble. “What are you doing here?”

  “Got a baby for you.”

  “What!”

  “Heard you and your bondmate—the new Exotique—were interested in adopting. My old mistress just told me I had a daughter…shook me down for blackmail. Hadn’t seen her for more’n eighteen months, simply been sending her a stipend. She wanted more for the kid. Or didn’t want the kid at all.” His breaths were pants, more from anxiety than exertion, Marrec thought.

  Gentral continued, “She has a farm just over the spur. Infant hasn’t been treated well. I thought of you.”

  “We’re not ready—”

  “Can’t take the youngster back, not good for her there. Can’t take her home, my wife would gut me, harm the child.” He laughed harshly. “I have a wife. A dynastic marriage, you know. Stuck with her. Not lucky like you. Won’t ever be able to Pairbond. All I wanted was a little ease.”

  Marrec walked to where Gentral stood in the dark shadow from the roof overhanging the stables. The noble’s eyes were wild, his face drawn with anger and distress. He held a bundle in stiff arms, then opened a smelly blanket to show the thin face of a young child with a dark bruise on one cheekbone. Her black hair stuck out in all directions. Marrec didn’t know much about children, but enough to know this one was less than a year old and puny. He made no move to take her.

  “I won’t—”

  “I saved your skin last year. This is payback. I won’t take her. You want kids. You owe me. We all win.”

  “Marrec?” Calli called. Her squelching footsteps came toward them.

  “Here! For the love of the Song, don’t tell her who I am!” Gentral thrust the baby into Marrec’s arms, turned and ran off with a ground-eating stride. Marrec stood helplessly, holding the babe, her big
black eyes fixed on his face. He knew without a doubt that the moment Calli saw the child, heard her circumstances, he’d have a daughter. It was too soon to start a family, he hadn’t even gotten the rhythm down of being a husband, a Pairling.

  Merde.

  “What’s wrong? I see someone running. Dark red aura. Did we have an intruder?”

  “Not exactly.”

  A volaran’s whinny rose in the night, the beat of wings.

  Calli scowled as she joined him, head tilted. “I don’t think I know that volaran.”

  Marrec couldn’t recall whether Gentral had been at the Castle when she’d been Summoned. He didn’t think so.

  The little girl coughed. Her tiny fingers flexed around the blanket edge. Calli froze beside him. Slowly she looked down at the small face. Her breath whooshed out as if from a blow.

  “Who’s this?”

  “An acquaintance’s bastard. Just abandoned to us. Was told she’d been mistreated.”

  “How terrible!” She glanced down, reached out to touch the little girl’s cheek.

  The child flinched, whimpering with fear, and struggled in Marrec’s arms until he found it easier to hold her upright against him. The little girl’s arms came around his neck. She set her face against his throat, sniffed him. Cuddled.

  “Well,” Calli said, looking dubiously at Marrec and the girl.

  Marrec didn’t know what to say.

  “Do you think she’s afraid of me because of my coloring?” She reached out to stroke the child’s back.

  The little girl shuddered. Calli jerked her hand away and met Marrec’s gaze. Her eyes wide, her lips pressed together. “I heard a bit of Song. She’s scared because I’m a woman.”

  Marrec had heard a short burst of panic notes, too. He nodded. He didn’t think he’d be able to hand the little one over to Calli anytime soon.

  “We’d better get her inside,” Calli said brusquely.

  “Good idea,” Marrec said, following Calli as she walked back to the house. The little girl’s cold fingers touched his collarbone, curled around the open edge of his shirt. He got the idea she was afraid to make a sound, that the strange woman would hurt her, that the child liked his scent.

  Great.

  “What’s her name?” Calli asked over her shoulder.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Huh. And you’re not going to tell me who dropped her off? Do you think we should keep her?”

  Both thorny questions. “A Chevalier who saved my life in battle last year claimed payback.”

  Calli snorted.

  “That’s what I think, too. I never went around tallying lives I saved in battle,” Marrec grumbled, shifting the child. Something squished beneath his hand. The little girl whimpered. “But since you don’t know the person, I’d prefer to leave it that way.”

  “In case I hesitate to save the Chevalier’s life in battle?”

  Marrec grunted. Thunder rumbled and the little girl let out a wail. He found himself rocking her and muttering endearments that he dimly recalled from his own childhood and his younger brothers. He could almost see once more the faces of his family. He shut the door on the images. The baby’s appearance seemed aristocratic, with a thin nose and large eyes and well-molded lips.

  They hurried back to the house in the rain. Calli’s excitement bubbled to Marrec.

  “Do you think we can take care of her by ourselves tonight?” Calli stared at the blanket, looking for any wetness. There was a definite odor. “I, uh, don’t know what are used for diapers here.” Why hadn’t she thought of that? “We aren’t ready for a family yet!”

  Marrec’s smile held little humor. “No, we aren’t. Help me with my gear.”

  She removed his hat, peeled the slicker off and hung them both on hooks, did the same for herself, all the while keeping her yearning hands from the little girl. He grunted a short spellsong and the mud disappeared from their boots. Nice. She hadn’t learned that one yet, but it wasn’t enough to distract her from the baby. A bone-deep feeling said nothing would distract her from claiming the child.

  He didn’t go up the stairs to their suite, but strolled down the left corridor and opened the door to the small parlor.

  As they walked into the room, the fire flickered to life and a fuzzy yellow sunlike ball brightened the room. It was the warmest and homiest of the downstairs rooms, with good but shabby furniture. Marrec set the baby on the floor.

  Before their startled eyes she whipped from the blanket and scrunched into a dim corner, crawling with an extra push of Power. They stared at each other.

  Calli cleared her throat. “Is your friend Powerful?”

  “He’s not my friend.” Marrec narrowed his eyes as if calling up an image of the man. “Powerful enough, I suppose. A wide streak of silver. He should have known better than to get into a fix like this.”

  “Ah. Huh,” was all Calli could think of to say. She took a couple of steps toward the little girl who was only clothed in what looked like a long slip, and the child cringed, putting thin, bruised arms over her head. Hiding. “Oh, boy,” Calli said, tamping down on anger. “I don’t like your acquaintance much.”

  “No.”

  “She sure doesn’t want me. Why don’t you try?”

  Marrec let out a sigh, lowered himself to the floor and inched toward the girl, who was peeping around her elbow. She trembled.

  He stopped.

  Song. Could a lullaby help? That might be a good idea, but Calli couldn’t think of one offhand. She sure didn’t recall anyone singing one to her. Shit.

  She could hum, though. Hum something. To her surprise the first song that came to mind was “I Ride An Old Paint.” Now, she’d heard that sometimes as a kid. It was sort of slow. So she began to hum that.

  Marrec tossed her a look, frowned. Do we know any songs in common?

  Only our own.

  He smiled at that, glanced at the little girl, crept forward a few steps on hands and knees. The child watched with wide eyes. Calli hummed a little louder. Marrec slowly walked forward. Finally when he was within the girl’s reach, he stopped. They stared at each other.

  Tentatively, the babe reached out and patted his nose.

  Marrec smiled.

  Gaze darting to Calli, then back to Marrec, the little girl’s lips curved. She grabbed the strands of hair that fell around his face.

  Good going, kid. That’s nice, feeling stuff.

  Minutes rolled by and both Calli and Marrec remained still, unthreatening. Finally the child squirmed a bit, held up her hands to Marrec.

  He picked her up.

  Calli exhaled slowly.

  Marrec went to a two-person sofa and sat cradling the toddler.

  “How’s she feel?” asked Calli.

  He smiled, slow and sweet. “Good. She feels good.”

  Swallowing, Calli sat next to them.

  The little girl’s face crumpled.

  Calli scooted to the end of the small couch, not far, but it seemed to relieve the little girl. She stuck her thumb in her mouth and Calli thought about bacteria. Heaven knew what sort of dirt was on that thumb. She didn’t have that much experience with kids. Yearned for them, yes, practical experience, no. Would the child still be on a bottle? Surely not. What did they use?

  She sent the question…a montage of images from Earth about babies to Marrec.

  The little girl blinked owlishly.

  Calli decided to hum again. The child burrowed into Marrec, closing her eyes. Calli figured that was a good sign. She wondered what would happen if she sent the little girl Power as she had when the horses were frightened. Touching the toddler’s mind might not be a good thing. Could she fashion something like a warm mood…an emotional blanket to reassure the girl?

  Pairling, Marrec whispered in her mind.

  Moving her gaze from the child to her husband’s face, she saw his smile widen. I recall when my younger brothers fell asleep so fast, so deeply.

  Yes, the girl was sound asleep.
Marrec’s vague childhood memories touched her.

  If the little girl was helping Marrec remember the good of his past, then she was already a boon to them.

  “I’ll go to the kitchen and see what we might have for food. Pick up some soft cloths for diapers,” he murmured, slowly shifting the girl.

  “I can—”

  He put the sleeping child into her arms. “Hold our child.”

  Calli looked up at him with suddenly swimming eyes. The warm little body filled her arms, lodged in her heart. She had a child now, one who would love her. Her dreams were coming true.

  24

  Their arrival at the manor near the previous day’s battle with the baby caused a big commotion. Calli couldn’t help herself from discreetly checking out male Chevaliers who might look like the child, but she knew everyone. Only what she’d come to think of as the core group remained and she already knew that neither Faucon nor Koz would give up a child…and neither was married. She’d gotten that much information from Marrec.

  To her surprise, the rest of the older Marshalls had flown in, and so had Marwey, who organized everything for the little girl, including finding a former Chevalier of the place as a babysitter/guard. The feycoocus were there, too, and they Sang approval of the whole business. Marwey used the magical beings to send word to Seeva and have one of the bedrooms in Calli and Marrec’s suite turned into a nursery.

  The war council didn’t take long and the only conclusion it came to was that more retrousse battles were probable.

  Calli and Marrec had already decided that was likely, and had held each other through the night, dozing and thinking about what being fighting Chevaliers would be like with a family.

  With more guts than she thought she had, Calli accompanied Marrec to the dreeth they’d killed. Marian and Jaquar, who had taken part in the discussion, were surveying the dead flying dinosaur. Marian looked a little pale.

  The battlefield itself looked…serene. Calli’d known that the fallen humans were always quickly absorbed by the land and swallowed hard as she found the grass greener in certain spots…then shuddered as she saw the burnt areas. Yet, she sucked in a big breath as she walked to the dreeth.