Robin Owens - Protector of the Flight

She thought of children. With a big ranch, she could have many.

Finally, an image of a flying volaran herd circled in her mind’s eye. Wings of all colors, equine faces looking to her. She could almost hear the wind rush through thousands of feathers.

When she glanced at Marian and Alexa, they were glowing with the golden aura of love. Love given and received with their men. Friendship love between them. They liked her already; could they become good friends? With these women there would be no competition between them, no moving around that meant brief and broken ties, like in the rodeo.

The room wavered before her as if behind a rich haze. She’d be rich and valued and respected and would own land. And love would come into her life.

Grabbing her mug, she filled it again and went to a wing chair. “What about this magical ceremony?”

The sound of strumming strings came once. “That’s the doorharp,” Marian said.

Calli remembered seeing something like half an egg slicer mounted on the door.

When the door opened a huge man and much smaller woman entered. Just the sight of their strong, intertwined aura had Calli sitting down on a little sofa, blinking. They brought music with them. It was the strongest tune she’d heard from people, truly a Song with a capital S.

Alexa introduced the two Marshalls as Mace, the arms master, and his wife, Clua, who was a battle strategist.

“You know, Calli, it would be much easier if you took just a drop of the potion,” Marian said, pulling the little bottle from her robe pocket.

Calli wondered if it was the same bottle or if she and Jaquar had concocted a large batch. She shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

Silvery laughter came from Clua. Mace stroked his wife’s hair. They were still holding hands. With a kiss on their linked fingers, the woman walked toward Calli, face welcoming, hands outstretched.

Their aura didn’t break apart, but stretched, and in stretching, remained the same deep gold color and thickness. It was as if wherever they went singly, they would still keep the same strong and intimate connection with each other. Awesome.

Automatically, Calli took Clua’s hands.

An image of a calendar flipped pages going back. Years. Calli was swept into the past, experiencing the Choosing ceremony of Clua and Mace.

The first thing she noticed was that she felt woozy, dizzy. A hand—her hand?—passed a goblet to someone and she noticed an aftertaste in her mouth. Another emotion swept her, anticipation at the Choosing, then, as she looked around a large room with stone walls—her Power amplified. Her eyes were sharper, her eardrums nearly exploding with the loud tangle of personal Songs.

She looked down at a table at a variety of items. A beret—nothing Calli had seen so far in this world, old-fashioned?—a quill pen, a book, a small carved volaran, a locket, a chain with keys, a brooch. She touched each and received impressions of the person who’d placed it on the table. Each time, she saw a colored link connecting the person to the object. Sometimes that connection was a thread, sometimes a cord. Once a chain. Just as the melodies she heard varied in strength and prettiness—a whisper of a tune too simple to please; a loud, intricately layered Song that pulled at her, awakened feelings deep in her core.

Her hand hovered over a locket. An oblong thing of gold, inset with black with a diamond in the center. She brushed her fingers across it and felt a surge of desire, longing, be- longing from it. Looking up, she saw a huge young man dressed in a short velvet robe and tights, arms crossed, staring at her. She couldn’t look away.

He was too big, too tough, too sophisticated for her.

Forcing herself to withdraw her fingers, she turned to the other tokens.

Nothing felt as right as the locket.

Time telescoped and Calli was able to distance herself a bit from the experience and feel the woman’s fingers clamped over hers in the here and now.

She watched as if hovering outside of herself—like she’d done in a couple of the surgeries—while Clua tested each item time and again, then finally listened to the rush of her blood and heart and bone and took the locket.

A shout of celebration rose from many voices—her family—and Mace literally leaped over people to claim her.

Clua let go of Calli’s hands. Calli staggered back to sink onto the sofa. “Oh. My. God,” she said, even as she heard the Marshalls leaving, Clua chuckling.

“Wow,” said Marian, sitting beside her. “Tell us what happened. Magical ritual, right? From what I can tell, I don’t think Clua ever wrote down the story for the Lorebook of Choosing and Bonding. She hadn’t ever met Mace before, that I have heard. But for the record, I’ll need every detail from you!”

“Marian, shut up,” said Alexa, wriggling in on Calli’s other side. It was a tight fit. Alexa stroked her back and the affectionate caress seemed to draw the stunning magic from Calli until she breathed steadily again. “Calli, you need to watch out how you touch people,” Alexa said.

“Tell me about it.”

“Sometimes they don’t mean to sucker punch you, sometimes they do, but we’ve all had an experience like that.”

Marian said, “I still want to hear every detail. What were the circumstances? Did the Choosing work? Well, duh! Obviously. How did it work? Was the magic very strong?”

“Yeah,” Calli said, shaking off the last of the weird feeling that she was living two lives in two different times. She rubbed her face, then dropped her hands and straightened to glare at Marian. “I’ll be drugged!”

“I promise you, you’ll be fine,” Marian soothed. She went to a bookshelf and curved her fingers around empty air, hummed a few notes. A thin book appeared in her hands. “This is the English version of the Lorebook of Exotiques. I’ve got the recipe here, all herbs we know except for one.” She flipped pages as she walked back. “And I’ve had that particular herb twice in larger amounts than you’ll receive. I’m still here, alive and kicking.” She found the entry and handed the book to Calli. “Look for yourself.”

Calli did. “Cinnamon, nutmeg, mugwort, bay. Rose petals?”

Marian nodded.

Staring at the page she saw another ingredient. “Centauriana,” she murmured. Another horse word. Almost like a sign.

Calli felt as if a stampede had galloped right over her. “I need to go to bed.”

“Can I tell the Chevaliers that you’ll go through with the Choosing and Bonding ceremony tomorrow afternoon?” Alexa pressed.

Exhaustion dropped on Calli like a thick horse blanket, smothering logical thought. Her vision blurred. When she blinked, everything still seemed out of focus. Sounds—more, music—enveloped her, running through her mind, preeminent among the strains was the tune of the Marshall Pair. They’d been so obviously a couple, obviously in love, and after many years. They believed in the Ritual.

Blinking again, she stared at Alexa and Marian who waited for her decision. Tonight both of these women would go to bed with men who loved them, were committed to them.

Loneliness ate at Calli, along with envy. A matchmaking ritual. The idea tempted. Her own judgment was lousy, and Alexa and Marian had found their loves on Lladrana, so why couldn’t she? What she’d seen of the couples, here…And magic worked. What the hell. Why not? What did she have to lose? “Sure, set it up.”

They smiled and came toward her, hugged her and the three of them linked and a huge Song filled Calli’s ears and traveled to her heart.

“The Song of Colorado women,” Marian whispered.

“See you tomorrow morning,” Alexa said. Both women left their arms around Calli’s waist.