Protector of the Flight - Robin D. Owens

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flooded Dark Lance. He reared. Spines struck, bounced off the protective shield both Marrec and Sharmane had slapped over the volaran. Marrec pulled the fear from his steed’s mind, using the emotion to drive his own Power, making his strikes harder, faster. He sent iron calm and fierce determination to the volaran. We shield. You live.

      Only the moments mattered, the next blow, ducking, turning, spearing. Slashing, kicking, cleaving. His mind held the volaran’s, refusing to let the winged horse panic, bolstering its innate courage. Imposing his will for the duration of the fight.

      He caught sight of the bright blue line of energy from a newly raised fence post. In a fury of fighting, he forced a render and a soul-sucker onto the border line and killed them. The energy field flared high and secure at that point and Marrec grinned, a rictus of triumph.

      Done! came the loud shout of the Marshalls, rushing from mind to mind to the Chevaliers. The battle was over, all the horrors destroyed.

      He panted a spell over his blade to clean it, ordered Dark Lance to the ground. Marrec wiped his forehead with his arm, winced as he finally felt the sting of two sucker rounds that had raised bumps on his cheek. His muscles were tired, aching, but his blood still sang with the aftermath of victory. He grinned at Sharmane and Jon and went to count his booty.

      He found six soul-sucker bodies with his killing mark, three renders and a couple of slayers. A third of his kill went to Sharmane who’d acted as his Shield. He gave his tally to Lady Hallard and she took her third, choosing to keep the two headless soul-suckers with most of their hide and tentacles. Soul-sucker was now in demand for hats ever since Bastien Vauxveau had shown how well they protected a person from the frink-worms that fell with the rain.

      When Marrec piled his prize in the spell-net, ready to take to an assayer, Dark Lance lifted his lip. Nasty smell.

      “Yes, but I made some decisions when you were gone. From now on we’ll be taking all our kill.”

      The volaran shuddered. Uses more Power to fly back.

      “From both of us.” He attached two long lines to rings on both sides of Dark Lance’s saddle to the net. “I promise this catch will feel no heavier than a pouch of silver coins. And I’ll buy a better net. There’s zhiv to be made in selling hides. The demand for slayer and render hide has gone up from the City States and Shud.”

      Dark Lance snorted, then looked away. We last.

      Marrec looked around. His volaran was right. Everyone else was gone. An atavistic tingle slithered down his spine. The sun was setting and they’d be lucky to be back at the Castle before dark. He tested his reserves and found them acceptable for the flight. That was a relief. Not everyone had taken their kills. The Marshalls and wealthier nobles who had paying estates didn’t need the extra zhiv and only claimed trophies they wanted mounted. A whole soul-sucker was a few strides away…. He snorted in disgust at the idea of becoming a scavenger…but he wanted to better his lot in life. Still, his net was full and his Power limited.

      And night threatened. There was no local landowner so far north to offer hospitality. Died out long ago, just as had Marrec’s parents and the rest of his village. His memories of that massacre were blessedly vague. Again he shivered, then the light dimmed just enough for the boundary line to brighten the evening and he was comforted.

      The ancient fence posts that had begun failing a couple of years ago were now being replaced. Everyone now knew how, and how to energize the boundary line from one fence post to the next. This bit of land was secure.

      That didn’t mean he wanted to hang around. “Let’s go home.”

      Home, echoed Dark Lance wistfully. To Marrec’s relief he saw the image of the Castle stables in the volaran’s mind, instead of Volaran Valley. Thank the Song.

      An embarrassed Thunder took off, with a brief telepathic, I must report on our ride together. Huh. Calli rolled her shoulders and fell into a standard analysis of her performance. The flight had been magnificent. She’d bonded with the volaran more than with the simple empathy she’d felt for her lost Spark. They’d been partners, but with her in the lead. She sensed a volaran’s threshold of going “right brain,” acting in panic, was far higher than a horse’s. They must not have had many predators, probably not for a long time.

      Marian and Jaquar took Calli to the Map Room on the other side of the courtyard. Something in the way people referred to the room jittered her nerves so she thought of it in capital letters. When they reached the door, she noted incised golden letters in curlicued words which she couldn’t read. More and more this was seeming less a dream, more like an alternate reality, but how could she believe that?

      Jaquar opened the door and held it. She stepped in to see a topographical map as large as a California king bedsheet angled before her, looking like no country she’d ever seen before. And it was animated. Bright yellow-white dots pulsed fast, other dots, smaller and yellower, blinked slower.

      Marian marched up to the map and touched the largest island off the western coast. “This is where Jaquar and I, and my mentor, Bossgond, live.” She indicated a small castle in the middle of the map. “This is where we are now.”

      Calli gulped.

      Jaquar pointed to the lights Calli had noticed. “This is the magical northern boundary, Power strung between the fence posts—” he tapped the lights “—to keep the horrors out.”

      Nape prickling, Calli took a few steps closer. Her mouth had dried. She swept a tongue over her lips. “There are gaps.”

      “Indeed,” Jaquar said. “The old fence posts are failing. Only recently have we been able to replace them—”

      “Alexa’s task,” Marian interrupted, her dark blue eyes serious.

      “Alexa’s task.” Calli cleared her throat. “And yours?”

      Marian shrugged. “I had a couple. The Marshalls hid the fact that the fence posts were failing and the monsters were invading easily and in greater numbers. This splintered already distant communities within the culture.” She gestured to herself and Jaquar, indicating their golden headbands. “Such as the Circlets of the Tower Community.”

      “And most especially divided the Chevaliers from the Marshalls,” Jaquar said. “Alexa was Summoned for the Marshalls, Marian for the Sorcerers and Sorceresses, and you for the Chevaliers.” He took his wife’s hand and kissed her fingers. “Marian has done a brilliant job of mending the breach between the Marshalls and Tower…as well as being an ambassador from the Tower Community to others. They trust us now.”

      “As much as less magical people trust the most magical,” Marian said with a wry smile.

      A hum came from the map and both Marian and Jaquar turned back to it. “Ah,” said Jaquar. He tapped a spot on the border where bright flashes came. “The battle is over and the Marshalls and Chevaliers are returning.” He let out a big sigh. “We lost no one and there’s a new fence post. The border is strengthened to the next post, so we killed some horrors.” He eyed the map critically. “No larger monsters made it very far into Lladrana.”

      That was the second time Calli had heard “monsters.” She straightened her shoulders. “Guess that’s what I’m supposed to do, right, kill monsters? Maybe stop the invasion?”

      Marian’s forehead creased. “Since the volarans disappeared and only returned after you were Summoned, it can be extrapolated that not only will you mend the divisiveness within the Chevalier community, and their distrust of the Marshalls, but also—um—speak on behalf of the volarans to everyone, particularly those who fly on—with—them.”

      Calli blinked as she unraveled that sentence. She wished Marian had spoon-fed it to her in little bites.

      But maybe she was just in an elaborate dream. Maybe a coma. Damn! Not more medical bills.

      Jaquar’s penetrating stare pulled her from her thoughts. “But the Chevaliers fly to battle. They are our—” he frowned as if

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