Protector of the Flight
If horses could fly…then Calli Torcher might ride again. But a devastating accident left her in such pain she thought the chimes and chanting in her ears were a hallucination…until she found herself transported to another world, and met the Lladranans who had Summoned her. Lladrana was a parallel, magical earth filled with exotic creatures, noble humans and enchantments–all threatened by an encroaching evil.And when the mighty volarans stopped obeying the Chevaliers, the flying horses' unexpected rebellion had thrown Lladrana into an uproar. In desperation, the sorcerers had sought help from afar–and gotten Calli. If she could fulfill this mission, perhaps she would also finally find all she had longed for–a mate, a home, a family. But against this great darkness, she had no battle experience, no strategy plans. She had only a bond with horses….
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ROBIN D. OWENS
PROTECTOR OF THE FLIGHT
To My Critique Group,
a better bunch of writers Iâve never met. Donât think youâll ever get rid of me, because I canât do this without you.
âLove is eternalâthe aspect may change, but not the essence. There is the same difference in a person before and after he is in love as there is in an unlighted lamp and one that is burning. The lamp was there and was a good lamp, but now it is shedding light too, and that is its real function.â
âVincent Van Gogh
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Coming Next Month
1
Colorado Mountains
Summer, Morning
Since her fall in the National Finals Rodeo, pain had been a daily enemy. Calli Torcher hesitated at the top of the steep stairs from her attic bedroom to the first floor, took a breath, braced a hand against the wall and gritted her teeth at the prospect of pain. No matter how carefully she set her feet, sheâd jar herself, then stop and pant through the agony. Or she might fall and end up in the hospital. Again.
Recovering from a broken pelvis took time. The bad dreams that peppered her sleep didnât help matters. Sheâd dreamt of people lost in a winter blizzard. Cries for help. Short notes of doom from a clock gong or the ranchâs iron triangle or a sirenâ¦
She shook her head to clear her mind and concentrate on navigating the stairs. It happened the third stair from the top, just a tiny misstep and she was leaning against the wall, trying to shut out waves of agony. When she recovered, she went on and made it to the ground floor with no other problems.
As she rested against the wall at the bottom landing, she wondered if she should ask her dad if she could use the downstairs storeroom as a bedroom until she fully healed. But things hadnât been right between her and her father for months, ever since sheâd fallen and lost the barrel-racing championship, ending her career at twenty-five.
That was the past. She couldâand wouldâstill train horses, take a more active role in the ranch now that she wasnât on the road all the time, traveling the rodeo circuit.
Her nose twitched at the smell of strong coffee and frying bacon. Dad was up and fixing his own breakfast. Since heâd started without her, she decided sheâd get some air, clear the images and sounds of the dreamâthe string of bad dreamsâfrom her head and replace them with the beauty of the Rocking Bar T Ranch in their mountain valley.
Calli limped to the corral, breathing deeply, feeling the tingle of the breeze on her face, the softness of worn flannel and denim from her shirt and jeans on her skin. The ball of the sun shot yellow streaks of light into the sky.
She reached the corral fence and leaned against it, breathing fast, still weak from her last surgery. Still, if she continued to work hard, in another few months sheâd be able to start training horses.
No whicker of greeting came from her gelding. Calli whistled. Nothing. He always greeted her. A twinge of alarm ruptured her calm. âSpark! Spark, here!â She called as if her horse was a young, heedless colt.
Her dad strode up, a lean tough man with a weathered face and hard lines carved from the rigors of cattle ranching. He leaned on the fence to her right. âThe gelding ainât here.â
She looked at him from the corner of her eye. Bristly gray whiskers sprouted from his jaw. He could speak well if he wanted, if he respected the person he was talking to.
She wet her lips. âWhat do you mean, Spark isnât here?â
His hat shadowed the eyes as blue as her own, but he squinted down at her all the same. Hard as the distant mountains. âHeâs a highly trained rodeo horse, worth a lotta money. Couldnât expect me to keep him âround when you canât ride him anymore and a profit can be made. Your last doctorâs appointment made me realize that.â
Calli pivoted so quickly it wrenched her hip. She ignored the pain in her body, so much less than the anguish in her heart. She spoke through the shock. âSpark is my horse. I gave you the money for him.â
Her dad shrugged. âI bought the gelding from the racetrack. The horse was registered in my name. Iâm the owner of Rocking Bar T and everything on it.â
âExcept for Spark. I paid for him,â Calli said through clenched teeth.
His stance was still casual. âHuh. My name is on the papers. And who paid for that horseâs keep when it was young? I did.â
Money wasnât the issue. Love was. Giving and receiving love was everything. Sheâd needed something to love and return that love in her life. âHow could you do this? I love him.â
