Protector of the Flight (47 page)

A
small strike force, maybe, and Calli nearly choked on her dry bread as she
reckoned who’d be the main part of that strike force. Exotiques. Six in the
next two years. It made sense.

The
passage of time had crept up on her, the plans she tried to forget, and the
next day was the flyover of the island.

Her
mouth flattened. Even with the strongest steed, the greatest merged will of man
and volaran, Marrec wouldn’t be able to reach her—them—in time to join her. All
that concern of his for her back at the camp, and he was not here to support
her. It was like a festering sliver. Nevertheless, she requested Tuckerinal
take a message to him. Maybe with feycoocu magic, Marrec could arrive in time.

He’d
want to know if she was putting her life in danger, if he was going to die at
the same time. Morbidly she wondered how that worked, if fate caused an
accident to happen, like a beam falling on him, or he just gave out of heart
failure or something.

And
didn’t that sound whiny and self-pitying and depressing? But all the time they
were on the journey, her skin had itched. Actually,
under
her skin had
itched, as if her nerves were tweaked every moment or so.

Sleep
had been elusive. Often the most she got was when she grabbed some in the
saddle in flight, but she, like everyone, bedded down early and quietly
tonight.

Once
again they rose before dawn. Calli shivered as her squire helped her on with
her dreeth leathers and mail. They could only pray that whatever the Dark’s
nest threw at them would not be lethal. They hoped for stealth. Whether they
would succeed in that, she didn’t know.

Expression
serious, Alexa walked over to Calli. “You aren’t going with us.”

“What!”

Alexa
let out a breath. “We—” she gestured to Bastien and Marian and Jaquar who were
clumped together a few feet away “—don’t think that this expedition will be
successful. We think the Dark knows us all, has a force field that none of us
can penetrate. You’re our secret weapon. So we want you to stay back, just in
case.”

“Why
don’t I ride with you and just go on if the rest of you can’t?”

“Because
we’ll attract attention. They might mobilize, we don’t want you going in alone
after we’ve alerted the nest as a sitting duck—volaran Pair.”

Calli
gulped. “Good thinking.”

“We
can save you for later, send you in alone as a surprise. Tomorrow morning. Just
as the sun rises.” She appeared as dubious as Calli felt about that statement.

“Okay,
I’ll stay.” She drew off her gauntlets.

Alexa
smiled. “Right. Keep the home fires burning.” She grinned. “Or make breakfast
for our return, or something.”

“I’m
sure I’ll occupy myself. Maybe rereading the Lorebook of Exotique Alexa.”

“It’s
very entertaining.” Alexa smiled. “Can’t go wrong.”

“And
the Lorebook of Exotique Marian.”

“Not
at all as fun.” Alexa kissed her cheek. “See you later.”

“Bye.”
Calli sat under a stunted tree and watched them fly away.

A
couple of hours later, the Marshalls and Chevaliers straggled in and fed the
campfires. Calli knew from their faces that they’d had no luck—not the
Marshalls, nor the Circlets, nor anyone else. Alexa was the only one who showed
any emotion beyond weariness. She strode into the circle around the largest
bonfire where they all congregated. “It was just like everyone said,” she
grumbled. “I couldn’t get through.”

Marian
frowned. “They must be able to set specific spells against us.” She shivered a
little. “I was there, so they know my…let’s say DNA pattern…for simplicity.”

Alexa
folded down to a cross-legged position, grabbed a spitted bird they’d saved for
this meal, swore at the heat and munched. Around a bite, she said, “Yeah, I’ve
always considered DNA the utmost in simplicity.”

“Smart-ass,”
Calli said. That phrase meant the same in Lladranan and English. She tried to
keep the tone light, as if it wasn’t a problem that she’d be the only one
flying over the island tomorrow morning.

“But
where would they have gotten your pattern, Alexa?” Marian asked.

“Dunno.”
Alexa frowned. “Maybe the sangvile that attacked me. But, no, we killed that
one.”

“We’ve
been operating with the belief that the horrors aren’t telepathic, but have a
group mind—what one knows, all know,” Marian said.

“Scary
thought,” Calli said.

“Yes,”
Marian agreed, “but I think it’s right.” She stared at Alexa. “They have your
pattern somehow.”

“Looks
like.” Alexa shrugged. “I’ve been here longer than you two. Fought in many
battles. If one of the beasts or something was on the battlefield to, uh, take
samples from me, not a problem. If the Dark bases its pattern on a DNA level,
only a drop or two of blood would be needed.” She ran her forefinger down the
scar on her cheek.

“Blood
magic,” Calli murmured. “Sounds Powerful.”

“It
is.” Marian glanced away from the fire and into the sky where the sun had just
set.

“I’ve
fought, too,” Calli said.

“But
you haven’t lost as much blood or bone.”

“None
of us have lost bone, thank the Song,” Alexa said.

Calli
leaned forward to tap her fist on the end of a log.

Marian
stared at her.

Her
face warmer than just from the heat of the fire, Calli said, “Superstitious,
knock on wood.”

“Huh,”
Alexa said and did the same. “Never know what magic works here, do you?” She
aimed a smile at Marian. “Simple charms might work, couldn’t they?”

“A
simple protective charm to ward off danger. Maybe,” Marian said, and rapped a
piece of wood near her. “The old Master probably got some blood from me, too.”

“Old
Master?” Calli asked.

Marian
cleared her throat. “There is a definite power struggle for the position as
intermediary between the Dark and the invading monsters.”

“Not
exactly a job I’d want,” Alexa said. Then scowled at Marian and Calli. “And no
lawyer jokes.”

“That
never occurred to me,” Calli said.

Marian
kept silent.

“Huh,”
Alexa said, then turned her attention back to the food. “I really could go for
some coal-baked potatoes.”

Groaning,
Marian said, “Why did you remind me? I
love
potatoes. There are none
here.”

“’Cause
you were thinking of lawyer jokes,” Alexa said.

Calli
stifled a chuckle.

They
ate and grew quiet. Whatever bravado they’d mustered until now vanished.

Thealia
stalked around the camp. “We are tired, our plan futile. But there must be
something we can do to help Calli.”

Her
Shield leaned on his quarterstaff and whispered in her ear. Her face cleared,
eyes brightened and she nodded sharply. “Ayes. Listen.” Her voice projected
over the camp and everyone turned to her. “We will place Calli in the center of
the camp, then initiate a Ritual. Of Security. Of Peace. We—and especially
Calli—will rest in a strengthening trance all day. The feycoocus will guard
us.” She bent a hard look at them. “They assure us that we will be safe.”

Murmurs
and nods followed the pronouncement.

Almost
reluctantly, Calli took her place in the center of the circle, as did Thunder,
watched as people joined hands, and the volarans clumped behind the humans.

Then
she slept.

Alexa
shook her awake. “Time to get up.”

The
knowledge of what she had to do chilled Calli. She dressed in dreeth leathers
and armor, helmet and gauntlets as she had done the day before. Took crystal
recording stars. She didn’t eat.

Far
too soon she was mounting Thunder for the flight.

34

T
hey lifted off
and soared, rising ever higher, and even though Calli knew she flew into
certain danger to scout the island and map it, the tension she’d felt at camp
dropped away.

She
was flying.

She
was free.

She
had all the magic of a dawning day surrounding her.

Let’s
go,
she said to Thunder, firmly inside his mind, holding fear at bay.

He
sent her a wave of love.

Truly,
she was blessed.

They
flew over the sea between the continent and the island. The enormous island of
only one mountain.

The
island that was really the nest, the home of the Dark that preyed upon
Lladrana. Calli rolled her shoulders, set her teeth, this was it. Her true
task. Once this was over, no more pressure.

Just
do it, get it done, go back to her real life with Marrec and her children.
Raising and training horses and volarans, making a family.

Even
though her real life included incredible things that she’d never imagined.

They
drew closer to the great mountain spearing out of the sea, snow and ice near
the bottom, rising to black-encrusted lava and glowing red around the lip.
Light and heat pulsed from it in ghastly intervals as if it was the Dark
itself.

All
the hair on her body prickled, her skin quivered. A susurration rose like water
dripping on a red-hot surface and Calli’s heart lurched. The Dark’s heart? The
sound liquefied her bowels.

She
concentrated on viewing the mountain. The crags showed folds and crevices where
Calli was sure evil horrors lurked. Dreeths, small and fire breathing, or large
and vicious. Farther down the mountain black mixed with the white of snow and
ice.

A
miasma of danger enveloped them.

Her
breath came short and ragged, matching the irregular rhythm of Thunder’s
wingbeats. They both shivered. She’d have liked to pretend it was simply the
result of the thin, cold northern air, but it was more.

Panic
was not allowed, especially in a volaran flier responsible for her mount.
Hadn’t she taught that every day?

So
she sucked in a large breath, aware of the ice crystals, the chill penetrating
her lungs. She
reached
for Thunder’s innermost mind, and merged, past
thought and feeling, until there was an incredible brightness in her own mind.
Living in the moment, living in the very stream of the Song.

She
felt as light and as thin as a cloud, and so did Thunder. They’d reached the
edge of the mountain now and Calli glanced down.

And
saw nothing of herself or Thunder.

They
were transparent! Invisible. A cry escaped her and she saw the lines of her
legs, of Thunder’s barrel forming, taking on color. No!

Another
slow, deep inhalation, a lightening of her mind and spirit, a casting off of
all worry and keeping Thunder with her, doing the same.

They
were a wisp of cloud, a feather floating on the air. They were unseen, and it
was so.

Awe
whirled inside her.
What a wonderful talent you have.

Slowly
words formed in Thunder’s mind, as if solidifying through the bright Song and
drifting down.
I do not know this talent.

But
you have it.

Then
you have shown me what I did not know, and now teach me how to master it.

And
you can teach all the other volarans.

Yes.
You have demonstrated how we can protect ourselves. I will tell the alphas,
they will consider it.

Ayes,
now let’s do our duty.

They
spent a long hour spiraling around the peak, from the bottom up, Calli
memorizing the landscape, marking the fissures and lava domes, hoping the
many-faceted crystal stars were transmitting. There was no harbor to speak of,
nothing that would hold a fleet, but cliffs on the north. Any landing on the
base of the island would be immediately noticed—visually, if by no other sense.

She
saw no level place large enough to hold more than a couple of volarans, and no
obvious entrance to the nest.

They
passed over the caldera and reached the round, open vent. Calli looked down at
bubbling molten rock, orange and red and awesome. No opening there. Other
ethereal planes might indicate a maw, but not here before physical eyes.

As
terror nibbled on the edges of her consciousness along with exhaustion—they
must be expending a huge amount of energy staying invisible—Calli closed her
eyes and let her senses rule, feeling an unholy pull of evil more like a putrid
stench than anything else. She nudged Thunder’s slowing wings toward the spots
that made her heart pound, her mouth dry, her body tremble with atavistic
knowledge of torturous death. Opening to the evil core.

Three
places, deep in slitted canyons so that she couldn’t truly see them, only sense
they were there. She marked them on her internal map, and noticed her dreeth
trousers were no longer transparent but turning their usual brown.