Protector of the Flight (62 page)

Inside
the Shield, she still swayed. It wasn’t enough. Closing her eyes, she
pulled
at her energy, her Power, deep inside her, yanked it up sluggishly through her
body, stalled somewhere around her heart. Her eyes didn’t want to open, she
wanted to crumple where she was into the arms of sleep. Though she’d prefer
Marrec’s arms. She sighed.
Marrec!
Her brain was definitely half a bar
slower. That wouldn’t do.

Oddly
enough, a commercial came to mind. Some cleaning jingle. She gathered her power
and
whisked
the sleepiness and complacency away. Spun the muggy effect
of another spell from the inside of her egg-shaped Shield.

And
came back to her senses, shivering in the cold, crisp air inside her Shield.
She narrowed her eyes, surveyed the camp. No one stirred.

This
was bad. Very, very bad.

Why
hadn’t anyone told them that the camp was bad?

Because
the dark spell had worked slowly, incrementally, like poison…and the Circlets
hadn’t been living at the camp since they’d taken the children for protection.
And another layer—the final trap—had been sprung when Marrec and the kids had
landed.

By
her secret enemy within the ranks of the Chevaliers and Marshalls.

This
time she could feel the evil.

The
evil one who had wanted to kill her.

The
evil one who had bespelled the camp and everyone in it—including Calli’s
children and husband.

The
evil one with great Power linked to the Dark itself.

She
found Jetyer in their tent sleeping on a cot, but not Marrec or Diaminta.

45

F
orcing her hand
shaking with fear to write, she penned a note to Marian, struggled to form
words, write them. She lifted the boy, ran from the tent, casting her mind
about for any volaran patterns. Sapphire was sleeping just a row away.

With
drunken strides, Calli found the volaran, strapped Jetyer in as if he’d been a
wounded Chevalier…and he was. Wounded already in this battle with evil that
shrouded Lladrana and not yet nine. She vowed this would
not
happen
again while she lived.

Shouting
in Equine, Calli sent enough fear spurting into the volaran to rouse her. The
mare tossed her head, rolled her eyes, backed.

Calli
infused Sapphire with steely determination to leave the camp and fly to Marian
and Jaquar. The winged horse remembered the Circlets. She could find Marian’s
and Jaquar’s Songs, especially aloft and flying. Marian had been kind. Jaquar
had had an interesting smell. She would find them. She would deliver Jetyer to
them…and the warning about the bespelled encampment. She would save herself and
bring help! Sapphire, the hero.

Heart
thumping hard, Calli watched her soar, disappear too soon into the sky. A spell
definitely lay upon this place like smog.

She’d
rescued Jetyer, done the best to warn others.

But
her husband and baby were missing. Her blood pumped sluggishly in her veins,
cold with terror. The camp was so unnaturally quiet, Calli thought she’d run
into the Dark lurking around the next tent corner.

She
could feel the evil one—and accomplices—like a burning on her skin, against her
Shield. The closer she got to them, the more her skin heated to bubbling. She
gritted her teeth and pressed on.

At
the break of a row, Calli stopped in horror. Before her was an open gathering
space around a fire. The flames flickered cheerfully against the darkness—and
illuminated the three people all too well.

Seeva
bent over a sleeping form, framed the woman’s face, inhaled and
drew
the
life, the Power from her. Calli could see it sparkle like bedewed diamonds from
the noble Chevalier to Seeva. She’d never known that could be done. She
shuddered. Of course she wouldn’t. She hadn’t been taught how to recognize or
battle evil in human form.

Horror
kept her still as she watched Raoul Lebeau strip the body of a jeweled necklace
and rings. Then he speared the woman casually, as if making sure of the kill.
He stepped back to observe her body sink into the ground to be embraced by
Amee.

Lord
Veenlit joined them, his face aged—by evil?—heavily jowled and ruddy in the
firelight, holding a beautifully jeweled sword, stroking the hilt.

Seeva
glanced at him. “You finally got what you wanted.”

“My
enemy’s sword, yes. And riches.” He gloated.

Calli
forced her gorge down. Stepped back in the shadows to look for a weapon, ducked
into the nearest tent, and shivered with relief as she found it to be Koz’s.
Anything she chose here would work for her, with her, on several levels. She
saw the chest, ran over and hummed the keycode. It opened to show her the
Damascene dagger, wickedly sharp, strong and Singing of the skill and magic of
two worlds.

Grabbing
it, she sped back out, just in time to see three more bodies vanish into the
soil, the men pocketing more gems, and Seeva moving on toward her next
victim—Koz. She set her hands on him, frowned.

“Another
of those strong in Power and determination against the Dark?” Raoul mocked, but
he sounded drunk. “So much harder to drain them, ain’t it?”

“Stop!”
Calli shouted.

All
three jerked to stand before her. Calli swallowed as she met Seeva’s eyes. Eyes
living with evil, a smile all viciousness. “You,” Calli said, then. “Why?”

Seeva
rubbed her hands. “Finally you come.” She glided forward a couple of steps.

Calli
stood her ground. “Why?”

“The
Dark needs a new servant, a Master of the horrors, that we might win dominion
of Lladranan, of Amee.”

Calli’s
mouth threatened to drop right open. “You wish to be the—the—” She couldn’t
seem to get her brain around the thought.

Lifting
her chin, Seeva said, “The new Master. She who rules the horror. She, who,
after the Dark entity itself, is the most Powerful person on Amee.”

“The
Singer—”

“Bah!
A weak old woman.”

Before
Calli’s eyes, the air around Seeva began to glow, lighting her brilliantly,
with the brightness and abundance of her Power. The Power she’d stolen from
others.

“Always
and ever I had Power. Wanted to apprentice to a Circlet, but that wasn’t what
people of our family did. So said my father when he was alive, and mother, and
my sisters and brothers. None of them listened. None of them understood.”

“Why
didn’t you just leave? Do it on your own?”

Seeva’s
lip curled. “Live like a servant for years while I apprenticed to some arrogant
Circlet who was lesser than me in nobility? Precious few Circlets come from the
noble class. I petitioned the one I thought would be the most useful and she
rejected me. Me! Sent me a note that she couldn’t be bothered with a girl who’d
struggle to raise her Tower.” Seeva whirled and Calli looked for an opening,
but the men watched her narrowly.

“That
was then,” Seeva crooned. “But see me now, see how much Power I’ve taken, how
much I will keep.”

“Enough
magic from others that it has made you mad. You have little personal Song of
your own left.” Calli licked her lips. “And the silver streak in your hair is
no larger.” Maybe they all were wrong. Maybe Seeva couldn’t keep the Power
she’d ripped from others.

Seeva
snorted. “The silver is so easy to hide if you want to, and my mother preferred
it.” She shoved back her locks and when her fingers released her hair, her
whole head glowed silver—as silver as Alexa’s.

“You
want my Power,” Calli said, gripping the hilt of Koz’s dagger hard.

With
a glittering smile, Seeva nodded. “Ayes. From the moment you arrived—from
before
you arrived.”

“Alexa
is too strong a warrior.” Calli was figuring it out. “Marian too strong a
Circlet.”

Shrugging,
Seeva said, “A matter of convenience. A Chevalier’s Power is closest to my
ancestral family Power, and you are still untrained in the greatest uses,
concentrating on your stupid volaran speak. You command weak animals. I will
command potent monsters.”

She
had a point in that Calli knew few purely Powerful offensive spells.

“But
I will weaken you first.”

“You
can’t use me like that.” She looked at Marrec lying on the ground. He appeared
to be sleeping, but looked as tough and strong as usual. “And you couldn’t use
Marrec, could you?”

Seeva
laughed and it was ugly. Made
her
ugly. “Many are stupid and excellent
sources. They’re too lazy to use their considerable Power, so I drain it off
them just…like…this.” She put a hand on Raoul’s upper arm and
sucked.
He
went up like a torch.

“Now,
Seeva,” Veenlit scolded.

Seeva
turned around and Calli’s blood froze in an instant. Seeva, the
evil, crazy
woman had a limp Diaminta in a backpack on her back. A cry tore from Calli.

Laughing,
Seeva said, “She’s Powerful—a gift for the Dark.”

Calli
leaped, fell far short.

Seeva
gestured to Lord Veenlit. “Kill her.”

Calli
had to be smart and accurate and fast. She rolled and lunged, butting her head
hard in his solar plexus. He went down. Rolled and rolled again as Seeva
stared. The woman had never been athletic. Calli came up behind her, fast.
Power was making her fast. Desperation was making her fast.

Praying
for accuracy, she slipped the dagger between Seeva’s back and the backpack, cut
the straps cleanly, dropped the weapon to catch Diaminta. Thankfully the baby
was still alive and asleep.

Marrec!
she shrieked.

He
shook his head, rocked to hands and knees.

Catch
Diaminta!
She made sure she met his gaze; he appeared dizzy but determined. He reared
back to his heels and she tossed the baby to him. He caught her close,
staggered to his feet.

Screaming
fury, spittle flying, Seeva flung herself on Calli, fingernails ripping cheek
and neck.

The
pain steadied her, gave her something to focus on. She’d won. She’d saved her family.
Now to kill the evil bitch who’d sold her soul to Darkness. They rolled. In
mud. In blood. Calli pummeled the woman, gasping, hit her on both temples.

Thunder!
she called.

I…I
come.
The sound of hooves echoed in her head, she thought she could hear the whir of
wings.

Seeva
was jerked away.

Calli
fell back, saw Marrec’s enraged face. He held Seeva by the neck of her robe,
had the dagger in his other hand.

He
plunged it into her.

She
arched, gurgled a cry, died.

Marrec
fell, too.

Lord
Veenlit had regained consciousness, grabbed the dagger, kicked Marrec in the
ribs and staggered toward Calli. “You ruined it all!” He threw the knife. It
flashed toward her, hideous pain speared her as it pinned her shoulder to the
ground.

“You.
Will. Pay,” Veenlit panted.

She
couldn’t feel either of her hands, writhed and only made the wound worse.
Desperate, she
reached
for Thunder’s mind.

Sweeping
down, he kicked Veenlit in the head, followed him down to trample him into a
bloody pulp in pure fear.

Calli
fought through Thunder’s violent terror, clamped her will upon his to calm. But
as he realized what he stood on, he shuddered, threw off her hold, began to
panic.

The
pain was a tearing ache, but helping Thunder distracted her. She could handle
volaran panic. Once again she imposed her steady mind upon his. “Calm. Look at
me and step sideways.”

Wiggling
a foot the volaran could focus on, and biting her lip to stifle her scream, she
drew Thunder’s attention.

With
delicate steps, he shook each hoof and set it outside Veenlit’s body. Dropped
his head, barrel heaving. Veenlit’s corpse sank into the ground.

Marrec
was there, whispering tender words, removing the dagger with one clean stroke.
He set his hands on both sides of the shoulder wound and pulled Power from
Amee, from other minds now throwing off the enervating sleep. He healed her,
banished her pain.

She
gaped at him. He sagged beside her.

“How
did you do that?”

“A
once-in-a-lifetime gift from Amee, I think.” He rubbed his left temple. The
silver streak there was wider than ever.

“Why
aren’t you with our children?” Her voice rose.

He
pulled her into his arms, cradling her close. “They are safe. Koz watches
them.”

Calli
turned her head to where she’d last seen Koz’s body. He wasn’t there.

“Why
aren’t you with our children?” she repeated.

“Because
you needed me more, beloved.”

In
the sky, thunder rolled. Lightning struck in three forks, on the two darkened
spots where Raoul’s and Veenlit’s corpses had lain, and incinerating Seeva’s
body. It had not sunk into the ground. Seeva had been as evil as the horrors
and Amee had not accepted her.