Protector of the Flight (37 page)

“I
can’t see it taking you,” Alexa agreed. She grinned, nudged Calli in the ribs.
“Still got your task, and your training to do, Volaran Exotique.”

“Speaking
of which, I think it may be time for another lesson.”

“I’m
doing well. I ride my own volaran in practice now! I
do
miss Bastien
behind me when we fight, but am glad I’m off horses on the battlefield.”

“And
so you should be. A battlefield is no place for horses.” She tangled her
fingers in the mare’s stiff mane. No one would know, now, that this beautiful
animal had been abused, and she sure wouldn’t ever let anyone ride her into
battle.

Alexa
said, “It’s no place for anyone. Your man, there—” she nodded as Marrec and
Diaminta disappeared around the edge of the stables, Diaminta babbling and
waving her arms “—he’s filled out. Not quite so lean as he was. Finally getting
enough food, I’d say. Your coming has been the best thing that’s ever happened
to him.”

Tears
prickled behind Calli’s eyelids. “Thank you.”

Alexa’s
smile was gentle. “I’ve noticed that you have a great deal of patience. You had
to in order to get me flying on a volaran, to work with others and the volarans
themselves. Your daughter will love you, just wait and see.”

Calli
hugged her. “Thanks. But compliments won’t get you out of a lesson.”

T
hat afternoon
when Calli and Marrec were playing with Diaminta, the siren screeched. Calli
heard the new additional bell mixed in the alarm that was added. Retrousse. The
Dark was sending monsters to an old battlefield. She listened hard, heard the
modality of notes that indicated the place. The same as the day before. Gardpont.
Her shoulders tensed. Diaminta flung herself at Marrec and held on hard. “Pa.
Pa. Pa.” She knew they left when the siren wailed.

His
jaw grim, Marrec shook his head. “We’re off rotation until tomorrow.” A hint of
relief showed in his eyes. Calli heard the shouts of Marshalls and Chevaliers,
the jangle of armor, the swish of volaran wings as they rose to the sky.

She
was relieved, too. No one had said anything, but she was sure she wasn’t the
only one who thought that the call to arms the day before to Gardpont was part
of the ongoing campaign to harm her. Remove or cripple or kill Marrec when
battling inner and outer demons and she would die, too.

B
ut the relief
didn’t last long.

Every
day after that, at varying times during the day, the siren sounded. Retrousse.
And always to the same place, the battle plain that had once held the town of
Gardpont. Additional alarms rang, too, along the northwestern border, near
Gardpont.

Retrousse
here, too, monsters being sent where greater battles had been fought, in larger
numbers.

Marrec
grew strained, paler. The fact that his memories were gone should have been a
boon. But every day he faced that his town had once been here, that the ground
showed where his family had fallen, in the house that had disintegrated around
them. That the village itself was gone forever.

Calli
was sure that if they had had to fight time and again here with total recall of
Marrec’s experiences, they’d have gone mad. And again she wondered if that was
the point.

As
it was, Marrec became more somber, withdrew from her emotionally. It was slight
but noticeable to Calli and she yearned to help. So she insisted that when they
could, they return home and worked on their estate—the volaran areas, the horse
paddocks, the arenas. He threw himself into the reconstruction, becoming an
ideal landowner.

After
visiting the village on their land his Song was more cheerful, as if he carried
the image of this village close to his heart to replace the one he’d lost.

He,
too, learned—of ranching methods here in the north, of crops and trade. Of what
the villagers needed from them, and how he and Calli could help the people who
welcomed them. They certainly won enough money fighting to build whatever they
pleased.

For
three weeks as summer grew less hot, and fall drew near, battle-weary Marshalls
and Chevaliers fought, flying in shifts from the Castle, returning. Those who
survived. Attrition took a toll. The next oldest Marshall Pair died, as did the
newest, and the Castle grieved. One or two Chevaliers, usually the lowest of
the low—like Marrec had been—fell in every fight, and this haunted the man.

The
loss of every volaran haunted Calli. Some would perish with their fliers, if
they’d been good partners. Some had broken wings and bones and minds that
couldn’t be easily mended and flew to the sanctuary that Bastien offered—and
land she’d set aside for them on her and Marrec’s new ranch, too.

Pascal
and Marwey earned their batons, but Seeva tried and failed to win her reins.

Battle
debriefings grew shorter, not much to mull over than what had been said before.
One afternoon the fighters of the morning sat in the grand entry hall of
Horseshoe Hall. Once again most of the force had had to turn out because they’d
fought on an ancient battlefield in the northeast where a mass of horrors had
invaded.

An
idea that had been floating around in the back of Calli’s brain bloomed. From
the corner of her eye, she watched Marrec, with his usual serious expression.
He didn’t like these meetings, no matter how short. He’d much rather be doing
his duty, or following his passion—managing the estate. With his natural
business savvy and her talent for teaching and training, they’d be wealthy if
they ever got a chance to truly settle down.

She
coughed to attract attention, then stood. “We’re always flying to the same
area.”

Swordmarshall
Thealia raised her eyebrows but said nothing about Calli stating the obvious.

“I
know the Distance Magic isn’t a great energy-sapping spell, but it does bleed
everyone of Power. We haven’t battled the Dark anywhere except the northeast in
a month—”

Marian
spoke, “I think it’s because the Dark doesn’t have a human master to control
the horrors. To order them and move them to wherever they were kept to invade.
Instead the Dark must
send
them itself. I think retrousse battles are
easier for the Dark.” Marian stood, too. She and Jaquar, and a couple of other
Circlets, had come and gone through the deadly weeks.

“If
you say so,” Calli said. She sucked in a breath. “Why don’t we…uh…make an
encampment a little ways south of the general area where we always fly. I’ve
read that this was done before.” She licked her lips, not looking at Marrec,
who had stiffened from a slouch beside her. “If even one life is saved because
our fighters have more energy, it would be worth it.”

People
talked over each other, discussing, as she sat down. Marrec continued not to
look at her. He didn’t say a word. After Thealia called in household
experts—the Castle Head of Staff and Seeva—appointing them as liaisons to the
Lord who held land near where’d they’d been fighting, she adjourned the
meeting.

The
Marshalls and Chevaliers left the hall with new purpose. Simply introducing
another option had lifted morale.

Calli
felt Marrec’s simmering anger at her. He headed toward their suite, but instead
of going to the rooms, he took the stairway to the Castle walls. She
accompanied him, and a bit of recollection from their bloodbonding came to
mind. When Marrec was very upset he walked the walls.

His
previous room had been tiny, about twelve-by-twelve feet and no good for
pacing. He liked the space without high walls, and the perspective of looking
out on the land he fought for, and the fact that he could walk. He usually
paced the length of the wall between Horseshoe Hall and the keep and back. He
didn’t fly on Dark Lance, as she would have Thunder, because he’d never known
when they would fight again and he would not endanger his volaran by tiring
him.

With
that knowledge, she learned that he hadn’t walked the walls since they had
bonded. He’d never been perturbed enough. Not liking his mood, but not wanting
to leave him, Calli accompanied him. The ramparts were wide enough for three
abreast.

They’d
strode to the keep wall next to Alexa’s tower and halfway back before he spoke.

“A
baby should not be kept in an armed encampment.”

She
swallowed hard. “I know.” She kept her eyes level with his. “Sometimes a
greater need must be served at the cost of personal desires.” She hardly
believed she was saying this. Always, always, she’d done whatever needed to be
done with the single goal of making her home better.

His
expression set. He was such a quiet man, such a controlled one, it took real
observation to know what he felt…or a bond. She put her hand on his forearm and
he jerked it away. When he spoke, his tone was soft and mild, more evidence of
his control and completely opposite what she knew he really felt. “Our primary
goal has been to make a home for our child—and children to come. We have been
in accord, and focused on that. It should remain our single purpose.”

Oh,
this was going to be rough. This was going to be big.

26

I
nhaling deeply,
Calli let her breath out on a rough
whoosh,
then said, “The best way to
ensure our children’s future is to defeat the Dark. I want this
over.
Over before our children are of age to become Chevaliers or Marshalls. Over
before Diaminta wants to fight.”

“You
plan on staying at the encampment?”

“I…it
depends.”

He
glanced at her. “This will take zhiv, too. Tents for y—us, for our squires.
Camping equipment.”

She wanted
to apologize but wouldn’t. Instead she lifted her chin. “This will save us
energy, too.”

He
laughed harshly. “It will add tension, being away from our child.” Turning, he
looked out at the rolling landscape to the west of the Castle, but Calli didn’t
think he saw it. She stepped closer, not quite brushing against him.

“I
don’t want to keep Diaminta here at the Castle when everyone else is gone,” he
said.

“I’m
sure we’ll be on rotation in the camp, too—”

“Doesn’t
matter.” His hands flexed. “Our estate is close enough for us to go home
between rotations.”

Calli
licked her lips. “If we will be traveling between our estate and the camp, it
will defeat the purpose of being less tired.”

He
seared her with a look. “But it will keep our child safe. Will you not travel
back and forth with me?”

She
couldn’t answer.

His
expression hardened. “I see. You leave your child.”

“I
am not abandoning my daughter!” she cried. Far too out of control. She breathed
deeply. Looking at Marrec from behind a film of tears, she said, “I must be
there. People depend upon me, will expect me to be there all the time. I am the
Chevalier
Exotique. I fight. That’s my definition.”

Another
big breath. “I can’t split my concentration between here and my home, like you
do. I’m not so good a fighter that I can just turn off battle scenes in my
head. I don’t want to get us killed.”

He
sat next to her and put his arm around her, but he was still stiff with his own
anger. “You are strong enough to do whatever you must. That means putting your
child first.”

“She
doesn’t even want me!” Another cry that tore from her heart. She’d loved her
mother, wanted her. She wasn’t abandoning her daughter for another man, a
richer lifestyle. Gulping, she dried her eyes and wiped her nose. “I know I
have to be there for her to learn to love. But I’ll come home once a week or
so. Why is that not enough?”

“Because
she needs you more often. You owe us as much attention as the Chevaliers and
Marshalls. Fall is coming on, and winter. Our estate must be readied for it. There’s
much to do.”

She
really looked at him, the man. He carried himself differently—like a man who is
certain of his future, a man of property and responsibility. Not quite the
noble…yet.

“I
will be spending more time at our home,” he said.

“I
understand, and that’s…that’s the way it should be.” Again she wanted to touch
him. Again she didn’t. It was hard reaching for someone and being rejected.

B
y the end of the
week, arrangements had been made for a cantonment to the north. The distance
between the Castle and the encampment seemed less than the emotional gulf
between herself and Marrec. And there was no magical spell to breach it.

They
talked little,
at
each other more than
with
each other. Marrec
had done his duty as a Chevalier, flying to battle, buying a two-room tent and
bivouac equipment. They flew to the place with the last wave of Marshalls and
Chevaliers one evening, arriving to see the tent city still going up later than
scheduled. Marrec would ensure their camp quarters were acceptable, then fly
back to the Castle in the morning and transfer Diaminta and their household
goods to their home. He’d stay on their estate until the morning of their
every-third-day shift.