Robin Owens - Protector of the Flight

“They go to fight the invading monsters. To live or die,” Marian said, face white and strained.

It had to be a dream.

Calli ran her fingers all along her skull, paying attention to her temples, and the side of her head that would have hit the crystal. No cracks, no breaks. No pain.

She pressed a hand to her chest, felt the thump-thump-thump of her heart. Hearing it in her temples, it was slightly loud, slightly fast.

“You really are in a different world,” Marian said. Her gaze swept the empty ward, her smile forced. “Well, it looks as if the briefing is up to me.” Her hand reached out for the man’s next to her and was immediately clasped and squeezed.

Another woman who’d found love on Lladrana.

After a deep breath, Marian said, “We have several choices as to where to go. Alexa’s tower guest suite is open. The Chevaliers, of course, prepared a suite in Horseshoe Hall and Jaquar and I are living in the Sorcerers’ guest rooms. We’ll have tea.”

Calli stared at her. “Tea! What about beer? Better yet, whiskey.”

The man snorted. He appeared totally masculine in the long robe. A thought struck Calli.

“Shouldn’t he not understand us?”

Marian flushed, but answered with more grace than Calli might have managed. “We’ve developed a potion that helps with language comprehension. Naturally, we needed a test subject. Jaquar volunteered. He’s the only Lladranan who understands contemporary American usage.”

“You said you were from Boulder. The university, right? What were you, a prof?” Calli asked.

“Close, a grad student on the way to a professorship and a nice tenure track.”

“I might understand the words, but the concept of that last sentence eluded me,” Jaquar said in English. He bowed. “My pleasure to meet you, Lady Callista Torcher.”

“Boy, you catch on fast.” Calli stared at him. His words had a definite lilt, especially when pronouncing her name, but were perfectly understandable.

Since Calli wasn’t wearing a dress, and wasn’t sure how to curtsey anyway, she inclined her torso. Without pain. That notion still amazed her.

“Though drink sounds good, I think it might be most illuminating for Calli to visit the Map Room,” Jaquar said.

“I don’t know—” Calli started.

The little filly danced up to Calli, butted her. I am here and wanted you here and we all wanted you here and you came! Love us.

Another hard shot to the heart. How could she not love this dainty…what? Tentatively she stretched out her hand and stroked the little hor—volaran top to toe.

The dappled gray crowded close. Except for this one, I am the best at talking to humans. So I am yours to partner with. He nickered, then sniffed at her. You are healed and well. Want to fly?

Her hand went to her throat, clogged with turbulent emotions. Would they ever calm down and sort out? What a day! “I…I don’t know how.”

The volaran blinked. She’d spoken English. But it had spoken…what? Pressing her lips together in concentration, she sent her wide-eyed amazement at a flying horse to the volaran, with the image of a lot of horses—a herd of horses, and no volarans.

Horses only? His mental voice held disbelief.

She nodded. Yes. Nibbling her bottom lip, she considered what to do. Just the offer by the gray volaran was a challenge.

Marian and Jaquar stared at her, muttering to each other, faces set in fascinated expressions.

“You’re talking to the volaran?” asked Jaquar.

“Did he speak telepathically to you?” Marian said at the same time.

Calli rolled her eyes. “Shit, you two.”

Marian chuckled. “Yes, we’re endlessly interested in everything. I saw you nod. A nod means agreement, just like in the States.”

Practicality surfaced. Calli’d never ridden a strange horse without playing games on the ground with it first. She sent an image of her favorite game, followed by Play first?

Snorting, the volaran said, I am not a horse. Volarans are much superior. He paused and she realized that he wasn’t speaking English or—or that other language. He was speaking horse-volaran-equine.

And she was understanding, in her mind and by watching him—eyes, ears, mouth and feet.

We play games in the air.

Well, that let her out. Volaran or not, she’d bet that, like horses, these equines tested their leaders. She may have been welcomed by them, felt that wave of love, but that didn’t mean they’d automatically elect her leader.

My back is broad and I will be careful. Just a short ride…I will use no distance magic.

I will be in charge, Calli replied, lifting her chin, getting the hang of the talking. She felt she spoke horse better than any other language.

Of course. Was there a hint of slyness in that reply, in the dapple’s eyes?

It didn’t matter. Anything other than a flying horse, Calli could have resisted. But if this was a dream, she didn’t want to wake before she’d flown on a winged horse.

Me, too. Me, too. Me! The filly gamboled about. Tossed her head, then blew out a little breath and continued, My Dam will fly with me. We will all fly together.

The gray’s back rippled and a saddle appeared on it. Calli went up and checked the tack. It was harsher on horse—volaran—than the bits and bridles and saddle she usually used.

That would change if she stayed…if she awoke and it wasn’t a dream.

No, said the mare to her filly. Thunder and the Lady will fly high and fast and far. We will stay here.

The filly huffed and circled the courtyard.

Smiling, Calli unsaddled and unbridled the volaran, leaving the equipment on the ground. He watched her with an astonished gaze. So did the Circlets. Marian’s mouth had fallen open. Calli sensed that both she and her husband rode horses and flew volarans.

She’d like a hackamore, but if she was going to impress the stallion, she’d go all the way bareback. Hey, if it was a dream, all she’d do was wake up if she fell, and if it wasn’t, well, maybe her life wasn’t too much to pay for a ride on a flying horse.

Don’t you humans need those things? The stallion still looked at the saddle.

Trying to talk in her head and aloud, Calli said. “I didn’t like the tack I saw.”

“Oh,” Marian said.

Calli smiled. “Ever hear of natural horsemanship?”

Marian relaxed and smiled, too. “Of course. I saw a few demonstrations.” Her face clouded. “I never learned and my mother’s polo ponies—” She stopped.

“Polo.” Calli huffed a breath. Were they from different backgrounds or what?

With a determined nod, Marian strode to face the gray stallion. “Listen here.” She gestured to Calli. “This is your Exotique. If you lose her, you will have to explain to the Chevaliers why. And those who brought her here will reconsider Summoning someone else if you have no respect for her.”

Calli could have told Marian that she was wasting her breath. The volaran was paying more attention to Calli stroking his ears than Marian’s words. A shadow in his mind did hint at a concern of losing her and explaining that to the alphas in Volaran Valley.

As she continued caressing his ears, he relaxed, just as the horses she knew did, lowering his head.

Smiling, she relaxed, too, relieved. She did have knowledge that could apply to volarans. She ran her hand from neck to shoulder, shoulder to withers and barrel, again and again. His coat was silkier, softer than horsehair, as if each individual piece was not a hair strand but a minute feather. He stood quiet under her hands, yet pleasure emanated from him. Occasionally she sensed a “nudge” to rub or scratch him in a particular spot.

Cautiously, she set her hand on the upper edge of the muscular ridge where his wings attached to his body, marveling again at them—their softness, the coloring that complemented his coat. All the equine cues she’d read showed respect. With a deep breath and a prayer in her heart, she set one hand in the dark mane, the other in the small of his back and hauled herself up—nearly flew onto him. Something inside her sprang open, imbuing her with energy and grace and…and…magic?