Protector of the Flight
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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.
Alexa was suddenly in the stall with them, crouched over Bastien. Calli hadn’t seen her move. Had she jumped? The stall door came nearly to Alexa’s shoulders. Surely not.
Jaquar looked at Calli and Thunder. “I’m opening the door to retrieve and examine Bastien.”
Keeping a hand on Thunder, who was only slightly disturbed, Calli nodded. Her mind was with Thunder’s. She could keep him from fear.
The door opened soundlessly, and Jaquar, Alexa and Marian dragged Bastien out. He tried to move himself.
With a whoosh, a large hawk swooped into the stables. It lit on Bastien’s head.
“She says it’s his wild magic that makes him react so,” Alexa said.
She? Who?
Thunder stepped forward until he was nearly out of his stall and into the crowded corridor. Feycoocu.
“Feycoocu?” Calli asked.
“A magical shape-shifting being,” Marian said absently.
Oh. Of course.
The hawk pecked Bastien on the head. He yelped and grabbed at it. It flew away. Thunder followed it with his gaze. I would like to talk to the feycoocu.
Calli decided she wouldn’t. The day was rapidly becoming overwhelming with the huge input of information.
Bastien shook his head and stood, helped by the other three. “Gonna lie down,” he said in heavily slurred English. “Bed.”
“Let’s get you there,” Jaquar said.
Bastien rubbed his temples. “Horrible headache. When did you say this would wear off?”
“Always too reckless for your own good,” Alexa scolded.
He closed his eyes. “Oh, that’s bad. Can be nagged at in two languages. No. I don’t like this.”
Jaquar said, “I’ll get him back to your suite, Alexa. You two should brief Calli on what she needs to know about the Summoning, the Choosing and Bonding ceremony, and the Snap.”
None of that sounded good to Calli. But one thing she knew, she wasn’t drinking any potion.
We made good impression, Dark Lance said smugly.
Marrec had used the last of his energy and Power to groom every inch of his volaran, murmuring compliments with each stroke. He didn’t want Dark Lance to ever leave again. Now he leaned against his mount, breathing in musky fragrance and thanking the Song that Dark Lance was back.
All around him other Chevaliers, even Marshalls, lingered, spending more time with their volarans. Especially those who could mind-speak with their mounts, even if only a few images. Especially those who only had one volaran. Those like him.
He shuddered again at the remembrance of loss. Not just of his best companion, but of his entire future. He did well enough with horses, but didn’t own any, didn’t know if he cared to. He’d have been penniless, with no decent way to support himself, if Dark Lance hadn’t returned. He hadn’t truly faced that fact until the volaran was gone.
One of the female Chevaliers sobbed, and Marrec had to gulp hard.
Cheek stings.
“What!” Marrec straightened, went to Dark Lance’s head.
Yours.
“Oh. Yes.” He pulled out the tube Bastien had given him, opened it and dabbed healing cream on his face. He chanted one chorus of a spell and the hurt diminished. That was different, too. Usually it would have taken three verses to repair the light soul-sucker wounds. He rubbed his hand over his cheek. No bumps.
More Power.
“Yes.”
More Power means more status.
“I hope so.” He cleared his throat and asked what he’d heard whispered in many stalls around him. Will you go away again?
No. Head Stallion called. I obeyed. Back here now.
“Thank you,” Marrec repeated.
We together.
“Yes.” He wanted to ask why the volarans had left and why they’d returned, hear the answers for himself, but Dark Lance’s mind-tone had been forbidding.
Rustling came from several stalls. Some of the Chevaliers were going to sleep with their volarans. Because they were afraid the winged horses would fly away again? He was torn, he wanted to stay, for the sheer comfort of Dark Lance’s presence. But if he did, he’d show the volaran he didn’t trust him.
After one last rub, Marrec left. He had to tally up his zhiv, plan for the future. See how long it would take to accumulate enough to buy a small piece of land in the north.
The tasty dinner Calli was tucking into seemed real, too. So far the normal things her senses understood—grooming, eating, peeing, made what she was experiencing real. But the strange events outweighed them. Falling through the crystal, waking up healed, moving without pain after a nap, hearing folks speak a different language.
Flying on a winged horse.
That had been the best.
As the plates were whisked away by Alexa’s serving woman, Calli studied her fork.
“We believe there’s always been sharing between our culture and Lladrana,” Marian said.
“Yes,” Alexa said, wiping her mouth with her napkin. “There have been Exotiques Summoned before, but not for a century.”
“I’m working on a Lorebook,” Marian said. “That’s what they call their reference volumes here. Lorebook on building Towers. Lorebook of Community Rules.” She made a face. “Before I started my own work, the Lorebook of Exotiques was a short one-page list.”
Alexa grunted. When Calli met her eyes, the Marshall held her gaze and said, “Lorebook on Summoning. Lorebook on Monsters.”
“That’s why I’m here,” Calli said. “To fight monsters.”
“That’s why we’re all here,” Marian said. “We were Summoned here by the Marshalls, and you by the Marshalls and Chevaliers, because the Song said we could vanquish the invading Dark. The dimensional corridor that links Earth and Lladrana is close. We deduce that there will be six of us Summoned.”
“So that’s the Summoning. Understand?” Alexa asked.
“Why me?” Calli asked.
Marian answered, “The Chevaliers had specifications of the qualities that they wanted in their Exotique, particularly after the volarans left. The Summoning would only be heard by a person who matched their needs—you.”
Alexa said, “During the Summoning ceremony, the Song is sent back in time on Earth to find and prepare a person to come to Lladrana.” She waved a hand. “Don’t suppose you heard chants and chimes and a gong over the last month, did you?”
Calli fell back against the plush dining-room chair.
“Thought so.” Alexa smiled.
“So you have all the qualities the Chevaliers wanted—someone the volarans would love, courage, determination.” Marian waved a hand. “You’re flexible in mind to accept the Summoning, probably don’t have deep emotional ties to Earth—” Calli kept her mouth shut “—or would consider staying permanently in Lladrana.”
“Fighting monsters, I don’t think so.” Calli crossed her arms. “Assuming I’m not in a coma from banging my head against that crystal.”
“What crystal?” Marian started.
“Stay on topic,” Alexa said.
Alexa stood. Her deliberate movements kept Calli watching her. She walked to the far corner of the room, where the wall separating the bathroom met the curving outer wall of the tower. Slowly she pulled her baton from her sheath. Green jade glowed above and below her fingers. The top of the wand had sculpted bronze flames. Nerves jittered under Calli’s skin.
“Calli, call it to you.”
Her breath stuck in her chest. “What?”
“Want the baton in your hand. Feel it in your hand. Reach out and say, ‘Baton!’”
“I don’t think—”
Coward. It came in her mind. In stereo. Alexa and Marian.
“You can do it,” Marian said.
“Why would I want to?” But she rose slowly and faced Alexa.
“Why not?” Alexa’s smile dared her. “Especially if it’s only a coma-dream.”
Marian frowned. “I’m not sure people in comas dre—”
“On topic, Marian.”
The atmosphere of the room became heavy and charged. It wasn’t only Alexa’s and Marian’s minds brushing hers, but Thunder’s and other volarans’, some people’s linked to them, too. All added to the anticipatory pressure around her.
“Fine. Baton, come!” Calli ordered.
It flew across the room and slapped into her open hand, stinging. And everything took on a solid reality that she couldn’t deny, as if her mind, her body, completely focused. The baton belonged to Alexa, vibrated like Alexa, but was real and solid in Calli’s hands. And magical. There was a force within it that compelled her to believe, to face the fact that she was no longer in Colorado, on Earth, like a door slamming shut behind her.
New place, new rules.
Before her eyes the metal flames atop the stick bloomed into real fire. She dropped it. Instead of hitting the ground, it shot back to Alexa, who sheathed it at her left hip. “There, you see? You have great magic. That’s another reason you’re here. We all have great magic. Cool, huh?”
“Magic,” Calli repeated.
Marian joined her. “Look.” She pulled a finger-length wand from her sleeve. Flicked it, it became larger, flipped it in her hand and flicked it again and the wand elongated into a walking staff. Calli’s mouth fell open.
“We all have magic here,” Marian repeated. “We have magic on Earth, too, it’s just very hard to access it. Earth is also a more visual culture. The Songs can’t be heard or Sung as easily.”
Alexa went to a love seat, sat and crossed her ankles. “I wouldn’t know. I didn’t return to Earth when the Snap came.”
Calli’s knees went weak and she crumpled into her chair. There was another one of those strange phrases.
At that moment a white, long-haired cat strolled in from the bathroom. Calli stared. She could have sworn the door was shut.
“A cat from my past. Actually, my magical shape-shifting feycoocu companion.” Alexa grimaced. “A cat. I hate when this happens. You get nothing out of a cat.”
Marian sighed.
The cat went up to Alexa, stropped her ankles and began a purr that only increased as it leaped onto Calli’s lap. It turned around a few times and settled. Calli found herself petting it. Its fur was as soft as volaran feathers, and she felt oddly comforted. “The Snap?” She managed a squeak.
Drawing up a chair next to Calli, Marian said, “At some point in time, Mother Earth will call to you, strongly enough to pull you back home. You’ll have a choice to stay or go.”
“When?”
“No one knows,” Marian said. “There isn’t enough data for a hypothesis. Perhaps after you experience it…”
Alexa said, “We do know that time passes the same here as on Earth. If you’re here for, say, three months, the same amount of time has transpired in Colorado.”
“The ranch!” She’d lose the ranch. Her dad would think she’d just walked away. Her fingers tightened in the cat fur. The feline grumbled.
“Sorry.”
The cat jumped down and went to sit in the middle of the floor and groom.
Calli wouldn’t walk away from the ranch, but her dad would think her cowardly enough to do so, dammit.
Both the women appeared sympathetic.
“The shortest amount of time before the Snap came was two weeks, the longest was seven years and three months, the average is about two months,” Marian said.
Two months.
Alexa smiled. “We have examples of the Bonding ceremony—” she waved at Marian “—and the Choosing and Bonding ceremony, an older Marshall Pair, coming later.”
“This is the marriage thing?” Calli asked, attention diverted from her dad and the ranch.
“Yeah.”
“I’d like coffee,” Calli said, going to the sideboard. She made the drink dark and sweet.
Alexa cleared her throat and sat, but didn’t relax. “You know that the Chevaliers want you to stay. It’s easier for a person to stay if you’re paired or bonded—”