Protector of the Flight. Robin D. Owens

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СКАЧАТЬ a clutch of his gut, Marrec saw there were plenty of foes still available. This was one of the largest attacks he’d ever seen. Had the Dark taken note that they’d struggled to repel the last few incursions—and on horseback, not volarans? He was all too sure of that.

      Not one slayer, render or soul-sucker could be allowed to escape into the interior of Lladrana.

      He slipped his shield onto his right arm, unsheathed his broadsword.

      “Marrec!” Two volarans and riders were at his left, Chevaliers sworn to Lady Hallard, a man and a woman with whom he usually teamed. All of them could speak with their volarans. He hesitated.

      Dark Lance didn’t, and Marrec was pulled into a loose connection of minds. The other volarans were mere murmurs.

      That mixed bunch, left! cried Sharmane, diving toward a group of ten.

      Renders are mine! Jon shouted, heading for a massive black-furred beast with razor-sharp claws.

      Soul-suckers! Marrec called. Dark Lance trembled, but Marrec was determined and urged his mount toward the two soul-suckers on the fringes. Soul-suckers rated the best bounty and he wanted some hides.

      I will Shield you both, Sharmane yelled.

      Dark Lance caught a soul-sucker with one hoof in its nose hole, smashing the gray head apart with a killing blow. The three tentacles at its right shoulder writhed, one whipping across Marrec’s waist. A yellow slayer spine shot to him. He deflected the poisonous arrow with his shield, swung his sword and decapitated another soul-sucker, continued his blow to slash the back of the yellow-furred slayer. The thing shrieked and turned, spines shooting from its arm straight to Dark Lance.

      Terror flooded Dark Lance. He reared. Spines struck, bounced off the protective shield both Marrec and Sharmane had slapped over the volaran. Marrec pulled the fear from his steed’s mind, using the emotion to drive his own Power, making his strikes harder, faster. He sent iron calm and fierce determination to the volaran. We shield. You live.

      Only the moments mattered, the next blow, ducking, turning, spearing. Slashing, kicking, cleaving. His mind held the volaran’s, refusing to let the winged horse panic, bolstering its innate courage. Imposing his will for the duration of the fight.

      He caught sight of the bright blue line of energy from a newly raised fence post. In a fury of fighting, he forced a render and a soul-sucker onto the border line and killed them. The energy field flared high and secure at that point and Marrec grinned, a rictus of triumph.

      Done! came the loud shout of the Marshalls, rushing from mind to mind to the Chevaliers. The battle was over, all the horrors destroyed.

      He panted a spell over his blade to clean it, ordered Dark Lance to the ground. Marrec wiped his forehead with his arm, winced as he finally felt the sting of two sucker rounds that had raised bumps on his cheek. His muscles were tired, aching, but his blood still sang with the aftermath of victory. He grinned at Sharmane and Jon and went to count his booty.

      He found six soul-sucker bodies with his killing mark, three renders and a couple of slayers. A third of his kill went to Sharmane who’d acted as his Shield. He gave his tally to Lady Hallard and she took her third, choosing to keep the two headless soul-suckers with most of their hide and tentacles. Soul-sucker was now in demand for hats ever since Bastien Vauxveau had shown how well they protected a person from the frink-worms that fell with the rain.

      When Marrec piled his prize in the spell-net, ready to take to an assayer, Dark Lance lifted his lip. Nasty smell.

      “Yes, but I made some decisions when you were gone. From now on we’ll be taking all our kill.”

      The volaran shuddered. Uses more Power to fly back.

      “From both of us.” He attached two long lines to rings on both sides of Dark Lance’s saddle to the net. “I promise this catch will feel no heavier than a pouch of silver coins. And I’ll buy a better net. There’s zhiv to be made in selling hides. The demand for slayer and render hide has gone up from the City States and Shud.”

      Dark Lance snorted, then looked away. We last.

      Marrec looked around. His volaran was right. Everyone else was gone. An atavistic tingle slithered down his spine. The sun was setting and they’d be lucky to be back at the Castle before dark. He tested his reserves and found them acceptable for the flight. That was a relief. Not everyone had taken their kills. The Marshalls and wealthier nobles who had paying estates didn’t need the extra zhiv and only claimed trophies they wanted mounted. A whole soul-sucker was a few strides away…. He snorted in disgust at the idea of becoming a scavenger…but he wanted to better his lot in life. Still, his net was full and his Power limited.

      And night threatened. There was no local landowner so far north to offer hospitality. Died out long ago, just as had Marrec’s parents and the rest of his village. His memories of that massacre were blessedly vague. Again he shivered, then the light dimmed just enough for the boundary line to brighten the evening and he was comforted.

      The ancient fence posts that had begun failing a couple of years ago were now being replaced. Everyone now knew how, and how to energize the boundary line from one fence post to the next. This bit of land was secure.

      That didn’t mean he wanted to hang around. “Let’s go home.”

      Home, echoed Dark Lance wistfully. To Marrec’s relief he saw the image of the Castle stables in the volaran’s mind, instead of Volaran Valley. Thank the Song.

      An embarrassed Thunder took off, with a brief telepathic, I must report on our ride together. Huh. Calli rolled her shoulders and fell into a standard analysis of her performance. The flight had been magnificent. She’d bonded with the volaran more than with the simple empathy she’d felt for her lost Spark. They’d been partners, but with her in the lead. She sensed a volaran’s threshold of going “right brain,” acting in panic, was far higher than a horse’s. They must not have had many predators, probably not for a long time.

      Marian and Jaquar took Calli to the Map Room on the other side of the courtyard. Something in the way people referred to the room jittered her nerves so she thought of it in capital letters. When they reached the door, she noted incised golden letters in curlicued words which she couldn’t read. More and more this was seeming less a dream, more like an alternate reality, but how could she believe that?

      Jaquar opened the door and held it. She stepped in to see a topographical map as large as a California king bedsheet angled before her, looking like no country she’d ever seen before. And it was animated. Bright yellow-white dots pulsed fast, other dots, smaller and yellower, blinked slower.

      Marian marched up to the map and touched the largest island off the western coast. “This is where Jaquar and I, and my mentor, Bossgond, live.” She indicated a small castle in the middle of the map. “This is where we are now.”

      Calli gulped.

      Jaquar pointed to the lights Calli had noticed. “This is the magical northern boundary, Power strung between the fence posts—” he tapped the lights “—to keep the horrors out.”

      Nape prickling, Calli took a few steps closer. Her mouth had dried. She swept a tongue over her lips. “There are gaps.”

      “Indeed,” Jaquar said. “The old fence posts are failing. Only recently have we been able to replace them—”

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