Robin Owens - Protector of the Flight

There is a Landing Field. Thunder’s ears flicked. It was more a question than statement.

We will land from where we took off. I’m sure Marian and Jaquar are waiting for us. Now she thought of them, she could feel them, as if they’d connected with her some way. During the healing? Probably. Wouldn’t folks who healed you with magic from the inside be connected with you afterward? Made sense. She might have a lot of bonds already, then. Huh.

More than feeling them, she could hear Songs. An interesting, intricate Song with echoes of Earth rhythms from Marian, an equally complicated, more masculine bass and brass from Jaquar. And a powerful twining Song greater-than-its-parts from them as a couple.

She saw them in the courtyard, sitting and observing her, leaning together. A brief spurt of envy held her still.

Thunder zoomed down, turned. The wind caught his wings and he tipped sideways. Calli’s fingers slipped from his mane and she fell right off him. She screamed and plummeted. A whisk of air surrounded her, spun her like she was trapped in a gentle whirlwind, then she was righted and set onto her feet before Marian and Jaquar.

Marian’s eyes were huge, her hands to her throat. Jaquar’s right arm was outstretched. Calli stared at it. It had been he, the Sorcerer, who’d caught her and brought her down safely.

Magic.

She really needed that whiskey.

Marrec could hardly believe Dark Lance was back and they were flying to battle, just as they had for many years. He swallowed hard. The cool wind stung his eyes. He blinked and looked around him, awed by the sight of all the Marshalls and Chevaliers streaming to the battlefield at the same time. Bright colors, shining armor and gleaming volaran coats flowed like banners against the summer blue sky.

Usually there’d be fighters caught elsewhere when the alarm rang, who’d arrive later, but all the Chevaliers of the Castle had been near the Keep, or lounging in Temple Ward, to glimpse the new Exotique.

So they flew together and Marrec’s heart lifted. The Castle alarm was connected to the magical fence posts along the north border of Lladrana. When it rang, the pattern of the notes and the stridency alerted them to the place where the monsters invaded and the number of horrors to expect. Experience had taught him to understand the alarm. They flew to the northeast.

As he watched, opaque bubbles formed around volarans and riders, masking the bold heraldic colors and gleam of mail. “Distance magic,” spells that increased the distance a volaran flew with every beat of its wings. Warriors could fly immense distances and engage the enemy near the border instead of dealing with monsters deep in Lladrana.

Need Power for Distance Spell, said Dark Lance.

Marrec sent Power to his volaran. Together they curved the distance-magic spell around them. With every beat of wings, leagues were covered.

Dark Lance whinnied in surprise. More Power.

It was his first real mental communication since he’d returned.

Yes, Marrec said. I linked with others, with the Marshalls and stronger Chevaliers to heal the new Exotique. The pathways in my mind that channel Power opened more.

Good, Dark Lance said, then fell silent. The volaran had never been one to speak while flying unless it was urgent. Their few real conversations had taken place in the stables. Marrec ached to question Dark Lance on the disappearance but had to put his curiosity aside to prepare for battle.

When the bubble of distance magic popped, Marrec rose from a light trance and watched the ground near. They descended to a large clearing in the shadow of the mountains. Dark Lance was following Lady Hallard’s volaran down to the west side of the battle. The Marshalls were already down and fighting as the incredible team they were—fifty linked minds decimated the monsters.

With a clutch of his gut, Marrec saw there were plenty of foes still available. This was one of the largest attacks he’d ever seen. Had the Dark taken note that they’d struggled to repel the last few incursions—and on horseback, not volarans? He was all too sure of that.

Not one slayer, render or soul-sucker could be allowed to escape into the interior of Lladrana.

He slipped his shield onto his right arm, unsheathed his broadsword.

“Marrec!” Two volarans and riders were at his left, Chevaliers sworn to Lady Hallard, a man and a woman with whom he usually teamed. All of them could speak with their volarans. He hesitated.

Dark Lance didn’t, and Marrec was pulled into a loose connection of minds. The other volarans were mere murmurs.

That mixed bunch, left! cried Sharmane, diving toward a group of ten.

Renders are mine! Jon shouted, heading for a massive black-furred beast with razor-sharp claws.

Soul-suckers! Marrec called. Dark Lance trembled, but Marrec was determined and urged his mount toward the two soul-suckers on the fringes. Soul-suckers rated the best bounty and he wanted some hides.

I will Shield you both, Sharmane yelled.

Dark Lance caught a soul-sucker with one hoof in its nose hole, smashing the gray head apart with a killing blow. The three tentacles at its right shoulder writhed, one whipping across Marrec’s waist. A yellow slayer spine shot to him. He deflected the poisonous arrow with his shield, swung his sword and decapitated another soul-sucker, continued his blow to slash the back of the yellow-furred slayer. The thing shrieked and turned, spines shooting from its arm straight to Dark Lance.

Terror 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.”