Guardian of Honor

by Robin D. Owens

  He hurried to her, scooped her up and took her mouth in a hungry kiss, needing to hold her, this reason for the turmoil of Testing for the past few hours. Her body was soft and yielding against his, her arms twined around his neck, her mouth opened willingly. Their mental and emotional Song picked up pace. Her unspoken comfort soothed the hurt his father had inflicted.

  Iam very proud of you, she said mentally.

  Bastien sensed the shadow and thought that she'd heard that very little in her own life—so she'd make sure to say it to him. When the floral scent of her teased his nostrils, he recalled he must smell of volaran and sweat. He turned the kiss tender, brushing his lips against hers, and set her on her feet. Her gown fell back into severe folds, but her complexion had turned rosy and she held herself more lightly.

  "Thank you for your words," he said. "I cherish them." He lifted her fingers to his mouth for a kiss, then placed her hand on his arm.

  Castle soldiers held the door open for them, as the little dog Sinafin trotted in after them. When they were inside, Thealia gestured to Alexa.

  "Swordmarshall Alyeka must join the rest of us in a semicircle to observe the Choosing."

  Once again the fact that she was a Sword and he a Shield tweaked his ego, and he hid his reaction from Alexa.

  Alexa rolled her eyes, and to Bastien's surprise, took the end of the line in a place next to Ivrog. She reached out for Ivrog's hand. He smiled at her and took it, then offered his left hand to Thealia. Her brows raised, but she joined hands with him and took her mate's, Partis's. The Marshalls all linked.

  Bastien stared, and thought they might be as surprised as he that Alexa preferred standing by Ivrog, of all people. Then he shook his head. Above all, the tradition of the Marshalls was as a single unit; every one of them would put the security of the whole above all individuals. He wondered if Alexa felt that too. Wondered if she needed that. Wondered if he could live with that thought-pattern.

  Sinafin, sitting on Alexa's feet, barked once. Make it what you will.

  Wasn't that just like wild magic personified in a feycoocu, giving advice in enigmatic words.

  Sinafin grinned a doggy grin, tongue lolling. You will hear.

  Mace strode through the doors, cradling a large bundle. Bastien's heart thumped harder in anticipation. He locked his knees against the trembling. He was about to Choose a baton—he, a scorned black-and-white, would claim the highest honor of Lladrana. He shifted his stance for maximum balance, evened his breathing, lifted his head in pride.

  Swordmarshall Mace carefully laid the felt case on the pavement with the faintest of clinks. Bastien's stomach squeezed at the thought of the powerful wands inside—marble and wood and metal and glass and gemstone...which was right for him?

  He felt the comforting touch of Alexa's mind, and glanced up to see her reassuring smile. She looked small and fragile. And carried the Jade Baton. Her spirit was great and her Power fantastic. But she was proud of him and had faith in him like no other, not even his brother Luthan. Bastien sucked in a breath. Of course he would Choose correctly. How could he not, with her support?

  Mace opened the flap, and Bastien saw the four rows of ten batons. All were there save the ones the Marshalls carried. Near the end of one of the rows, two batons appeared dull and dim. His stomach tightened as he understood that those belonged to Defau Disparu, whom Alexa had killed in self-defense, and Disparu's wife. He choked, shook the thought from his head. Being a Marshall was a risky business. Summoning an Exotique chancy also, but Defau had attacked Alexa to kill, and she'd reacted. He looked at her again and her smile faded; he felt her Song insinuate deeper into his mind. Not wanting her to recall the event, he scanned the rods at his feet. Nothing sang to him on first glance. He opened his mind to his Power, and heard the tone of each one. Different, mingling, whispering, but none that resonated with him.

  A tendril of dismay uncurled inside him. Keeping his face impassive, he squatted, resting back on his haunches. He held out a hand and passed it over the wands quickly. Once. Used both hands to test the strength of their pull, more slowly, twice.

  He gritted his teeth, felt the touch of Alexa's comfort again. But he was deeply glad his father wasn't here to comment.

  Bastien settled into his balance and opened all his senses. He frowned, put his hands on his knees. Something wasn't right. Reaching, stretching his Power to the limit, he called a tiny kernel of wild magic he found tucked away inside him...and probed. Two pure notes rang in response.

  Narrowing his eyes, he studied the batons. They weren't for him—none of those in the pockets...but...but... He closed his eyes and instinctively reached. His fingers scrabbled at the fabric that folded over the batons, found a hard lump.

  "What's that you're doing, boy?" Mace barked.

  Since Bastien didn't know, he didn't answer. Opening his eyes, he examined the fabric he held, noticed a tiny gap. With steady fingers, he opened the folds of the secret pocket, slipped his hand inside, curled his fingers around a sturdy cylinder, smooth and rough. He drew out an obsidian baton, with a cord of engraved silver spiraling from silver bottom to silver top.

  The Marshalls gasped as one.

  "I don't think I've ever seen that baton," Mace said in a constricted voice.

  Faith pulled forward, but was held back by the linked hands. "I don't know if I've read of it in the Lorebooks. A black-and-silver wand, for a black-and-white man."

  "Well done!" Ivrog shouted. "Viva Shieldmarshall Bastien."

  An instant's silence, then the rest cried. "Viva Shieldmarshall Bastien!"

  Bastien strode over to take Alexa's hand. A wave of sheer Power rolled through him, the combined natural resting magic of the Marshalls. For an instant he was awed. Alexa looked up at him and grinned, her eyes brimming with pride. He squeezed her hand.

  Bastien's touch energized her. Connected, mind, body and heart with Bastien on her right and all the rest of the Marshalls on her left, Alexa felt as if she'd finally found her place in the world.

  The rainbow lamps on the altar chimed; the big gong vibrated softly, almost under her hearing range; the large crystals embedded in the beams and at the ends of the rafters brightened and dimmed, like a lightbulb about ready to die. Huh, they hadn't done that when she'd gotten her baton. Had they? Her memory wasn't clear.

  But a fine tension hummed through the Marshalls. Somethingwas going on that she didn't know about, as usual. Bastien's fingers tightened on hers near pain. Flames danced under the surface of her baton; the silver on Bastien's blazed.

  "I've heard tales—" Bastien breathed.

  Bells sounded, tinkling, sparkling, like sleigh bells in Christmas commercials. Another quiver ran down the line of Marshalls, with rising excitement. The circle broke and they surged to the door.

  They flowed through the door and out into the Temple courtyard.

  "Look," Bastien said, angling his chin.

  The bells were attached to a volaran harness. Two pure white volarans, manes ruffling in the night breeze, looking like a fantasy had flown in. Between them they carried a little, much-decorated wooden...something. A tiny carriage? Yeah, it had wheels. A little Cinderella coach, but with the horses on either side. Weird. Fabulous. Something big was happening.

  "The Singer," Bastien whispered.

  Uh-oh. The most powerful person on Lladrana, the one who listened to God—the Song. The one who did those oracle things. Alexa wanted to run away, fast and far. But Bastien stood solid, holding her hand. Everyone in and near the Castle tumbled into the ward, to see, to watch. No sneaking away. Probably didn't have anything to do with her anyway. Yeah, right. This was the seer who'd told the Marshalls to Summon her. Shi—Shoot.

  All around her, breaths were held and eyes were on the coach as if Santa were coming, but no one knew if he was bringing coal and switches or presents containing heart's desires. Alexa tugged on her hand, but Bastien, the big lunk, wasn't moving. Nope, had to stay and wait to be engulfed in an avalanche.

&nbs
p; She heard Thealia inhale, then the Swordmarshall wiped her palm on her fancy malachite robe and strode forward to press down the intricate gold handle of the coach and help out the occupant.

  A tiny old woman emerged. Smaller than Alexa. Her face was a mass of lines, her bones birdlike. A shock of white hair fuzzed around her head, lifting and falling with the ripple of the night breeze. More like a fairy godmother than Santa.

  She wore a gold-colored gown, made of the same fabric as Alexa's own. Alexa looked down—not the same cut, thank goodness. A minor thing, but significant, she hoped. She was not going to become this "Song." She was a Marshall. A Swordmarshall, heaven help her. A fighter. She grounded herself and shifted her balance, keeping a tight grip on Bastien.

  As the lady scanned the courtyard, many shrank back, some stepped into the moonlight. Luthan strode across the ward. When he reached the woman, Thealia stepped aside, relief showing on her face. Luthan bowed, braced himself and took the tiny hand to place it on his arm. Alexa saw a tremor run through him. Bastien and Alexa took a step back, and Alexa noticed all the Marshalls did too.

  "Forgive me for not giving you notice, my liegeman," the Singer said.

  Alexa had never heard a voice like it. More than musical, like it carried in it the ancient answers of the stars. She'd never felt a voice like that, but it plucked chords of her inner being. She strained to hear every cadence, every syllable, every note.

  "The Singer knows best," Luthan said, and took one small step to her two.

  "Thealia, Partis, Johnsa, Faith..." The Singer greeted every Marshall by name. Alexa suppressed a smile. Well, if they didn't want to be famous, they shouldn't be the head honchos.

  The Singer glided slowly toward Bastien and Alexa. Her head tilted back and her face lit as she saw Bastien. "Ah, my black-and-white, Bastien." She lilted "black-and-white" as if it was an honor.

  Bastien bowed deep beside Alexa. She'd never seen any guy bow like that—elegant, reverent.

  "And Alexa Marie Fitzwalter."

  Shock stunned Alexa. No one had asked her middle and surname. No one. She'd told them to no one. Bastien glanced down at her, eyebrows raised.

  Sinafin yipped, pranced around the lady's gently moving hem. A sweet chuckle poured from the Singer. Alexa sighed with wonder.

  "Good evening to you, feycoocu," the Singer said.

  Sinafin sat and lifted a paw.

  The Singer had made Luthan, bigger than Bastien, tremble at her powerful touch. Would she blow Sinafin away?

  The little lady bent down. She didn't have to stoop very far. She took Sinafin's paw in her hand. Sinafin sat rock solid. Alexa sensed the Singer hadn't modulated her Power at all; Sinafin's just met and equaled it. Sheee—Shoot. Wow.

  Power—communication?—passed between the little magical being and the Singer. Then the Singer released Sinafin's paw and the greyhound came to sit proudly by Alexa, who was still gathering her wits.

  The Singer stopped in front of Alexa. She was not much shorter after all, an inch or two. Her face lifted slightly so Alexa could meet her eyes. They were deep and brown with a small slant. Her features weren't Asian or Amer-Asian, they were Lladranan. For a moment Alexa had thought she would be an Exotique too.

  "Hello, Alexa," the Singer said in English.

  Alexa gulped. Thankfully, the woman hadn't offered her hand. "Hello, Singer."

  The oracle's head tilted a fraction. "You are from Co-lo-ra-do?"

  Alexa's tongue felt thick. "Yeah. Yes. From Denver."

  The Singer's eyes closed briefly, opened. "As will be the next. All but one."

  Alexa didn't want to hear that, didn't want to go there. "You speak English."

  "Yes, I had an Exotique who taught me many years ago. He came from Mass-a-chu-setts."

  That accounted for the Boston twang. So the most powerful human in the world of Amee spoke with a Bostonian accent. Too much.

  The Singer slanted a look at the Marshalls. "The Marshalls of the time were perturbed that he didn't stay—we had problems even then and Exotiques are always powerful. But he didn't love Lladrana or me enough to stay when the Snap came."

  Oh boy. Too much information. Way too much. Alexa thought the trembling inside her would show soon. She wasn't sure she could stop it.

  Bastien's arm circled her, giving her sturdy comfort. "Alexa will stay. We need her."

  The Singer raised her brows and replied in Lladranan. "You have a blood-bond from the spilling of the dreeth's ichor, and a Paired bond, but you have not completed the formal Pairing ritual." She switched to English. "Wedding."

  Bastien tensed.

  Oh yeah. Mention marriage to a commitment-shy man. That was good. Huh! The idea scared the crap out of Bastien, and it made Alexa a little queasy herself.

  Then the woman smiled, slowly, beautifully, enveloping Alexa in an aura of bright golden warmth. "I've come for your Marshall Song Quests, Alexa and Bastien."

  Oh shit.

  23

  “Let's go into the Temple to conduct your Song Quests." The Singer glanced over her shoulder at the range of Marshalls behind her. "I would like to use the Castle Temple privately with Bastien and Alexa, with your permission."

  "Of course," Thealia croaked. She bowed deeply. "We will have refreshments for all of you in the small formal Marshalls' Dining Room."

  Well, that left out a lot of people. The Marshalls were keeping the lady to themselves. Huh. The minor irritation helped Alexa beat back her fear. She'd never been a person who cared to know the future. The future was what you made it.

  It was a little demoralizing to cling to Bastien, but the day had been one unbelievable event after another that sent her reeling. She supposed she shouldn't put listening to a Song Quest in the same category as killing a huge, rabid pterodactyl, but she did.

  Equally unimaginable, equally new, equally something she didn't want to do.

  She guessed a Marshall didn't whine. Too darn bad.

  She couldn't even drag her feet. Since the Singer was as small as she was, both Luthan and Bastien kept their own steps tiny. They walked at a brisk pace—the Singer's and Alexa's pace.

  She shivered.

  "Are you cold?" asked Bastien.

  "Very."

  He gestured to Urvey, who lingered in the background. "Please fetch Swordmarshall Alexa's cloak."

  The title jolted her. Swordmarshall. She grimaced. Sounded like she'd be swinging one often.

  She wanted to know the exact procedure of a Song Quest. Another experience that everyone knew about except her, and no one had given her specifics. Would the Song Quest take place in the pentacle, near the altar? She'd skirted that part of the Temple every time she'd been in it. What else would happen?

  "Will there be drugs?" she asked.

  The other three stared at her. "Drugs?" Luthan asked.

  Alexa sipped in shallow breaths. "Will you drug me like the Marshalls before that miserable Choosing and Bonding Ceremony?"

  Bastien let go of her hand to wrap an arm around her waist. "No."

  She looked up at him. He'd always been honest with her. Luthan had been a little sneaky, the Singer was an unknown, but Bastien had been brutally honest.

  "Have you had a—" she took care to form the words correctly "—Song Quest?"

  He grimaced. "Yes, when I was nearly a teenager." He smirked at Luthan. "It was supposed to take place before my first sexual experience, but no one told me and they were too late."

  The Singer raised thin eyebrows. "I remember it well. Do you, Bastien?" Her voice was smoother and richer than honey.

  Bastien gulped. "Ah, no, Singer. Not entirely. My Power was too uncontrolled. I don't remember the trance."

  "Just as well," she replied serenely.

  "Trance?" Alexa's voice rose. "A trance?" She didn't know if she liked the idea. Dreams were one thing, an induced trance something entirely different.

  They reached the Temple's huge oak door. Luthan hurried to open it. The Singer walked on, close to Alexa, t
hen tripped over the threshold. Alexa reached for her. The Singer linked hands with Alexa, and she was swept away into a montage of flowing visions.

  Shock stilled her, with her mouth open to protest. Blackness filled with evil things descended, and the gray edge of death advanced, then was parted like a theater curtain to show scenes of Colorado! She saw the mountains outside Denver, the city itself—but changed. She blinked and saw herself, older, shedding black judge's robes, walking away from an office with a sign on the door that said, "U.S. District Court Judge, Alexa Fitzwalter." The scene shifted, zoomed in, passed a huge, beautiful house to a backyard garden, and a barbecue with many people talking and laughing, jazz in the background. Several children played, shrieking with glee, and Alexa realized with shock that two of them, a boy and a girl, were hers. The girl smiled with a cheeky, missing-toothed grin. Alexa's heart lurched with yearning and love. A man's deep voice spoke behind her and she knew it was her husband. A man she greatly cared for.

  Chords of music clashed loudly in her head. She thought she cried out. Around her was Lladrana, deep green fields, misty rain, bodies of monsters and volarans littering the ground. In the distance was a tossing gray-green sea. She wiped her arm across her forehead and her sleeve came away bloody. She hurt. Shegrieved for fallen friends. She ached with weariness from the battle, the one the day before, the one that might come a day later. Flickering images seemed to telescope a future of endless fighting, from different angles—on foot, on horseback, on volaran-back. Bastien was always there, her Shield, her strength, comforting. She loved him deeply, nearly desperately, with love that grew each day and was returned in kind. Her friendship with the Marshalls had deepened into love too. When she thought of her friendships, they were many and complex, encompassing Townmasters, Chevaliers of low and high degree, the Marshalls, Friends of the Singer.

  And along the border glowed a magical boundary between live, new fenceposts.

  Flickering shadows highlighted several other women—Exotiques, like her. She tried to grasp the images, but they faded too rapidly. The world spun, shrank, and she saw it—the world of Amee—the continent Lladrana was on, the seas to the far North, islands to the west. One northern island held a mountain peak shrouded with dark, evil clouds. She felt a sharp pain in her side, looked down to see herself dressed in her Colorado winter clothes, and bleeding. A great light blinded her and she glanced up to see a sunrise of shooting golden rays above a horizon, heard/felt a great shout from all of Lladrana, from the world itself, as evil died. A triumphant orchestral march rang out.