Protector of the Flight (2 page)

Blood
pounded in her ears and with it came the sounds of chimes and singing.
Tinnitus, ringing in the ears, the doctors had said, and that it should go away
soon. The illusory sounds might pass, but the very real loss of the ranch would
always shadow her. More bad dreams.

Her
white-knuckled hand on the wooden rail hurt from splinters, rough wood
impressed hard on her palm, the ache of her stretched tendons. She let go.

She
had to escape, allow emotions to surge through her—her grief for the loss of
Spark, the destruction of her dreams. She’d plan later. This heartache she’d
brought on herself for not letting herself see what the man who fathered her
was—hard and bitter, guarding his heart from everyone, including her.

She
limped, stumbled, caught herself, limped a few more steps—and found that she
did so in rhythm to the reverberating rise and fall of melodic voices. Her foot
brushed a fallen branch and she picked it up and used it as a walking staff.

By
the time her eyes cleared from tears, she’d passed the edge of the ranch yard
and was on her way to the sandstone rocks and the wide ledge on a hill that had
always been her refuge. She needed air to breathe.

When
she reached the ledge, her pelvis ached all the way up to her teeth. She
hobbled past the huge sheered-off crystal face of the hill to solid rock and
gingerly lowered herself to sit. She leaned against the hillside, her legs
straight, and set the stick beside her. Then she wiped the sweat from her face,
wrinkling her nose at the brown and red dirt smears on her bandana.

Her
breath came fast with exertion. Her teeth hurt from gritting them when she’d
negotiated her way up the rocky path. Up here, the wind blew and she heard a
tinkle of chimes rushing around her.

She
closed her eyes and whirls of bright colors streaked inside of her eyelids. The
spots would fade as she rested.

Her
heartbeat decreased to normal. Too much emotion and exertion in such a short
amount of time had drained her.

Time
seemed to slow until one moment was everything. The scent of rock and pine, the
faint tumble of a distant stream, the cool wind, all etched on her memory.

She
opened her lashes and looked out over the ranch, the kitchen gardens, the
sprawling house, the land that stretched to the mountains, higher than this
backyard hill. So beautiful. The stream was full—no drought this year.

For
a while, Calli just sat and enjoyed the calm of her emotions. Too many problems
had pressed down on her lately, flattening her spirits. For this one moment she
could be quiet and enjoy life, let thoughts drift through her mind without
jabbing at her heart.

Did
she love the ranch?

No.
It had always reflected what her dad wanted, not the kind of ranch she wanted,
a horse ranch.

But
she loved the land. And she loved the potential of a horse ranch. She wanted
the land, wanted to shape that potential.

The
rock was cold and hard against her back as her head throbbed with equally hard thoughts.
She’d been a fool.

Well,
that was the past. Maybe only the recent past, but time to wake up and fix her
mistakes.

Spark
was gone. Her heart twinged, jerking her body. She could barely stand that
thought. Bill Morsey was a good horseman, and his daughter would be thrilled to
have Spark. Calli’s lips turned down. Her father had probably done the best
thing for Spark. The horse loved to run, delighted in an audience. Calli gulped
and blew her nose on the corner of her bandana.

Now
that she knew she’d have to fight Dad for her vision of the ranch, or walk
away, she must make some decisions.

Should
she fight for the land or get a check for her share and leave? She had a chance
of winning—never Dad’s respect or love, she finally realized that, but she might
be able to prove her contribution to the ranch, her vision was more profitable
than his. In any event, she’d go to the bank and straighten them out about the
equity she had in this place. She had records. There would be deposits, bills
paid, after she’d sent money back, and everyone in town knew of her triumphs.

Fighting
would take a lot of energy—physical and emotional, and that was a rare
commodity for her during her recovery. And it would be bitter, turn her father
against her forever.

But
she loved the land and he already had no affection for her. How much did
he
love the ranch, the land? Would he hate her for fighting?

She
didn’t think so. She loved. He didn’t.

He
could take his
share of the ranch money and walk away. It would be tough on her own at first,
but she was confident she could make a name for the ranch, for herself, by
horse training. She’d be well in a few months. Or after one more surgery.

Calli
glanced at the smooth plane of crystal that was the face of the hillside beside
her. Milky white with tints of green, the sheer face of the glassy rock stood
taller and wider than herself. A small rim framed it, protecting it from the
weather.

She
hadn’t been able to look at the faint image of herself in the crystal for a
long time.

A
while back, she’d done a little research and discovered it was a fine piece of
microcline. Devil’s Hole wasn’t too far away, and it had had even bigger
crystals.

When
she’d first found the path and the crystal when she was six years old, she’d
been a little afraid of it. The green had tinged into dark shadows inside that
reminded her of the tiny, dark bedroom her mom had locked her in when she’d
left the ranch as evening fell—walked away from the land and her husband and
her daughter forever. A memory Calli suppressed as much as possible.

Years
later, sunlight had danced on the face of the crystal and lit the angles deep
inside. Then she pretended she saw a different world dimly through the crystal,
a place with flying horses and those who rode them lifting flashing swords.
Later still, she just saw herself in the shadows.

She’d
faced disillusionment today, maybe it was time to face herself again—then she’d
know she was strong and able to deal with the future on her own. She’d never
ride the rodeo circuit again, but she’d come to terms with that. She’d never
have her father’s love, and that left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Levering
herself up the wall slowly, she rose from the ledge and balanced on the stick.

She
stared into the crystal and the shadows beyond the smooth outside plane. Her
image was wavery, her blond hair a shade of yellow on the milkiness. She made
out the curve of breast and hip.

But
besides herself, she once again saw an imaginary vision of otherwhere. This
time a section of a great, circular stone wall, and flickers of colorfully
robed figures. Once again the strange sounds the doctors had called tinnitus
plagued her. Chimes. A gong. The chanting of many voices in words she couldn’t
seem to grasp. Gregorian chants, maybe.

Bong!

The
sound came next to her ear, louder and more vibrant than ever. She pivoted,
lost her balance and fell. Ah, shit, she was going to hit her head on the damn
crystal.

But
she fell
through
it, into a blank whiteness so pervasive she couldn’t
tell if her eyes were open. She choked on a scream. All the emotions that had
calmed as she sat on the ledge jammed into her. Fear. Despair. Most of all, a
great longing for someone to love. Someone to love her back. A partner.

It
lasted instants. It lasted an eternity. Then bright colors whirled in her
sight—patterns, stained glass! She glimpsed pillars around the curved walls of
a circular room, and rafters with huge crystal ends.

Pain
shot up her hip, stealing breath. Calli didn’t believe this. Her throat closed
with fear. She must have hit her head on the rock and was dreaming. She rubbed
her head, but didn’t feel any bumps. Dazed, she examined her surroundings. A
big round stone room with an altar and colored goblets. A gong. A circle of
people.

Calli
sucked in air. It didn’t smell anything like a hill in Colorado. It smelled
like incense in a church. She gulped and shivering seized her.

A
small woman with white hair and a young face, green eyes and a long scar along
her cheek caught Calli’s attention. The lady wore a long velvet robe with silver
threaded designs. “Hi, I’m Alexa Fitzwalter. Welcome to Lladrana,” she said.

This
couldn’t be happening! But she wouldn’t take it lying down. When Calli
awkwardly sat up, pain lancing low in her torso, the singing stopped.

Alexa
stepped forward into the center of the star, compassion in her eyes. “It’s a
rough trip.” She held out her hands.

Calli
stared at her, touched her fingers. They felt solid and warm! Another moment
passed and Calli realized that Alexa wouldn’t push. The dream woman was
courteous. Alexa would let Calli make her own choices. A hard knot in her chest
loosened, she was in charge of the dream. She put her hands in Alexa’s and was
drawn to her feet with surprising ease and strength.

Alexa
kept an arm around Calli as if to steady her and Calli was grateful for the
physical and emotional support. Her gaze swept the circle of people, pausing at
the men and women who were dressed more roughly than those in velvet robes.

When
Alexa looked up at Calli, her expression was haunted. “We need you really,
really bad.” Alexa licked her lips. “Do you know anything about horses?”

Clang!
An alarm
shrilled. Everyone in the room tensed.

Alexa
cocked her head, her hands fisting. “We have no volarans,” her voice broke. “We
can’t fly to battle.”

Stranger
and stranger. Calli shot glances around the room, wanted to run, didn’t think
she could hobble fast enough to escape…what?

“How
good are you with horses?” Alexa demanded again, squeezing her arm.

Calli
knew she flushed but shot up her chin. “Excellent. I’m an excellent horse
trainer and one of the top barrel racers—”

People
ran to the great door, flung it open, sending in bright summer-morning
sunlight. A whir of wings rushed into the room.

Cheers
rose outside. A young man shouted something.

“They
came back,” Alexa whispered. Tears ran down her face. “The volarans have
returned.” She looked up at Calli, sniffed. “I knew it was right to continue
with the Summoning.”

Hooves
hit the stone courtyard. The next moment people were spreading out in the room,
making way for…for a winged horse.

Calli
blinked. Blinked again. The pegasus didn’t vanish. In fact,
more
swept
into the room. Ten. With dozens outside. Chestnuts, roans, piebalds, even a
palomino or two. She caught her breath in sheer wonder and thought the top of
her head would explode with this huge wave of horse-thoughts and horse-love
radiating from them, inundating her.

A
gray clopped up, stretched his wings, forcing people aside.

Her
mind spun. Her mouth dropped open.

The
stallion’s large dark gaze fixed on her.
We love you. You are the Volaran
Exotique.
She heard the words in her head.

Then
chimes clashed and she
felt
the sound storm through her, plucking at
muscle and bone and nerve. She cried out, arching away from Alexa, escaping the
woman’s grip. Reached for the winged horse, missed. Calli landed on the floor
again on her butt and shrieked with the pain radiating through her pelvis.

Only
agony existed. Everything else around her dimmed—she couldn’t see. Again and
again the chimes rippled, but they sounded muffled as she grimly fought through
the pain and hung on to the edge of consciousness.

Then
someone struck the gong. Once. Twice.

She
only heard a part of the third beat. Sweet darkness descended.

2

“S
he’s hurt!”
Alexa Fitzwalter, once of Denver, now a Swordmarshall of Lladrana, whirled to
face the Marshalls and Chevaliers.

Few
were paying attention to her or the new Exotique. They were herding the newly
arrived volarans out the door, the gray stallion grumbling, then taking off.
People ran with unseemly haste to find their own winged companions.

The
defection of the flying horses ten days ago had devastated the Chevaliers and
Marshalls. A black pall of despair had filled the Castle. Calls to battle had
been blessedly few—only three—but fighting without the flying horses was nearly
impossible. Lladrana would be lost to the invading monsters without volarans.
Dread had circled the Castle like a vulture.

They’d
been desperate when they’d worked the ritual, praying the one they Summoned
would somehow lure the volarans back.

A
medica strode forward and crouched by the woman on the floor. Alexa turned back
to watch the examination. She didn’t even know the woman’s name yet, but Alexa
feared for her. She and the Marshalls had Summoned this woman from Colorado, away
from Earth to this world, so Alexa was responsible for her until she made her
own place on Lladrana. Biting her lip, Alexa shifted from foot to foot,
grateful when her husband, Bastien, joined her.