Protector of the Flight by Robin D. Owens Read Free Book Online Page B

the
distance a volaran flew with every beat of its wings. Warriors could fly
immense distances and engage the enemy near the border instead of dealing with
monsters deep in Lladrana.
    Need
Power for Distance Spell, said Dark Lance.

5
    M arrec sent Power
to his volaran. Together they curved the distance-magic spell around them. With
every beat of wings, leagues were covered.
    Dark
Lance whinnied in surprise. More Power.
    It
was his first real mental communication since he’d returned.
    Yes, Marrec said. I
linked with others, with the Marshalls and stronger Chevaliers to heal the new
Exotique. The pathways in my mind that channel Power opened more.
    Good, Dark Lance
said, then fell silent. The volaran had never been one to speak while flying
unless it was urgent. Their few real conversations had taken place in the
stables. Marrec ached to question Dark Lance on the disappearance but had to
put his curiosity aside to prepare for battle.
    When
the bubble of distance magic popped, Marrec rose from a light trance and
watched the ground near. They descended to a large clearing in the shadow of
the mountains. Dark Lance was following Lady Hallard’s volaran down to the west
side of the battle. The Marshalls were already down and fighting as the
incredible team they were—fifty linked minds decimated the monsters.
    With
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