To Race the Wylde Wynd Ch. 16

“Mother of darkness...!”

These softly whispered words jerked the Talon back to awareness. He fervently prayed that what had just played through his mind was a particularly nasty dream dredged up by having someone else digging around his skull. The look of stunned shock on Chrysta's face dashed this small hope. Five HUNDRED years... Templer could only stare into the woman's wide eyes as his carefully crafted version of reality started to crumble. Deep in his mind... the damning scene played itself out again, every detail as clear as glass. The Cataclysm had occurred over five centuries ago. How in the seven HELLS could he possibly be remembering this? He turned to Azra... but found no comfort in his outrider's complete and utter silence.

Constantine tried to pull in a breath so he could scream. He had not only been present five hundred years ago, but he directly participated in the events that destroyed civilization. Millions had died in those first horrifying hours. Just as many had perished in the following days as the creatures released began to re-shape the very fabric of life itself on planet Earth. It was only due to mankind's sheer tenacity that human beings still existed at all!

All of this lifetime the priest had let the responsibility for his actions and what he had become rest squarely on the Order he served. This knowledge stripped away his ability to hide from what he was. Centuries ago he had chosen to be a killer. He had allowed his Faith to salve any guilt he might feel and committed atrocities without question because he believed his actions were directed by the will of God. There was only one truth that shone its harsh unyielding light through the dark storm rolling over his soul. Templer Constantine had been a monster LONG before he had gone under the Maker's knives.

The priest's body began to shake as these soul crushing facts slammed against the crumbling foundations of his reality.

“CHRYSTA...!”

This was a growled warning. Azra watched in mounting alarm as the impossible balancing act his host maintained to preserve his fragile sanity shifted. The outrider swore as Templer's mind buckled under the stress and the man started a wild slide into madness.

“HOLY... SHIT!”

Chrysta hissed savagely as she caught the full brunt of the twisted brew of emotions rolling through the priest and got a good glimpse of the stricken look on his pale face.

“What the HELL!! He can't possibly be this fragile!”

This was directed in panic at Azra as the woman knelt down in front of the shaking man. Taking his hands in her own, she tried to siphon off and dissipate the worst of his emotional distress.

“More so than you will ever know!”

The outrider's rough voice was grim as he bolstered Templer's mental barriers with his own formidable strength. If the Talon could not find his balance, the demon would be forced to push him into unconsciousness. He did not know what condition the man would awaken in. IF... he awoke at all! Under normal circumstances the demon wouldn't have hesitated to take advantage of Constantine's lapse. The thought of being trapped in a host who might become cationic for eternity terrified the hell out of the demon.

For several desperate moments they worked in sync, trying to hold the gunman together until he could regain his mental footing. Try as they might they made no progress. It seemed that one little shift in the fabric of his mind had released a series of cascading waterfalls. This torrent wouldn't be stopped until it swept Templer Constantine's sanity off a very steep cliff!

Azra gave a nasty curse and tried to stop his unstable host from pulling the wild elemental energy riding ahead of the coming storm into himself. It was an instinctive reaction from a mind desperate to escape. When the power reached levels the Talon could not contain, it would be released in one massive blast. Templer might not succeed in destroying his physical body, but he sure as hell would level the town!

The outrider was nearing the end of his strength. He desperately gathered what he could spare to try and push Chrysta OUT. There was still a chance for her to get away. He was not surprised when the woman called him something unflattering and resisted. Before Azra could react, another presence joined in the struggle. All three minds were flooded with the sweet rumbling croon of a destria. After a moment a second deeper one also entered through Chrysta's empathic link, and then as if from a distance, a third surprising tenor mental voice bracketed the whole. The deeply soothing, harmonic vibrations had a hypnotic, mind numbing effect. For one long moment they remained balanced on the edge. Then Azra gained a finger hold on the deadly energy his host was accumulating. The outrider managed to build a diversion channel and harmlessly bleed the majority of it back into the storm where it belonged. What remained he painfully absorbed into his depleted reserve. They realized they were making progress when the embattled man managed to unlocked his body enough to take a deep shuddering breath.

Chrysta held the link steady until she was sure that Templer (and Azra) had regained some semblance of control. Then she carefully blocked the three destria out and withdrew. Still glowing, golden eyes flew open as Templer heard the slight hiss of pain that escaped her lips when her leg protested its awkward position. He had regained enough of his equilibrium that he was able to steady her as the woman scooted back into her chair. A brilliant flash of lightening and almost simultaneous crack of thunder made both of them jump. Out in his paddock El Diablo screamed a shrill challenge to the wind. The storm had finally arrived. The wind whipped rain in through the open window and Templer had enough presence of mind to slam it shut before they were both soaked.

The Talon watched the water stream down onto the courtyard as he worked to stabilize his mental balance. When he felt he could speak without screaming, he shakily turned to the still seated woman.

“I can honestly say, that if given the choice to do that again I am not sure I would take the chance.” Templer managed a slight smile at the look of concern on his companion's face.

“Holy... Templer, I am sorry! If given the choice, I don't think I would do that again either! I knew the damage was old... that's one of the reasons I thought it would do no harm to repair it. Mother of demons... five hundred years! How is that even possible?”

“I do not know. What you repaired loosened some of the Vows binding me but they are still in place. I remember some of my life before the Cataclysm but nothing much else until the last eighty years. Even though I WANT some answers... I do not think I can stomach learning anything more right at the moment”

Templer ran his shaking hands through his hair, pulling the raven mass away from his face. It was only then that he noticed the tears that were slowly drying on his cheeks.

“I am not sure if you have given me a gift or a curse tonight Chrysta, but I thank you and your destria for it all the same.”
The priest sighed... “Azra... the same goes for you. I am in your debt. God only knows how this would have turned out without you stuffing your proverbial fingers into the holes to stop the leaks.”

“Don't think too much of it Constantine. You have to stay sane so that occasionally I can have someone to talk to. My helping you out was purely an act of self-preservation!”

The demon tried hard to sound unconcerned. HE knew how things would have turned out and he had NO intention of sharing the information!

There was movement out in the courtyard. The Talon realized that Nuva was standing out in the storm her blue gaze trained steadily on the window. If he did not know better, Constantine would have sworn that the mare looked concerned.

“Chrysta, I think I recognized Nuva's voice, just as...”

The priest hesitated. He had come very close to letting go completely and allowing that ebony tide of despair to take him totally under. There was no way he could explain how the trio of destria had spun out a gossamer net. It was made of shimmering threads of forgiveness woven with acceptance all tempered with an incredible strength of will. This caught him as he slipped over the edge. It patiently held his spirit in place until he was able to find the strength needed to reach for the light that Chrysta and his outrider held out against the everlasting night. He cleared his throat...

“Who were the other two that joined her? Do you know why they helped out?”

The woman carefully split the rest of the Anesthetic into their two glasses before she answered.

“Nuva, as you know, took a real liking to you and she could feel your distress through me. The deeper "voice" was Zephyr. He will usually follow where Nuva leads. As intimidating as he looks, Zephyr has a kind heart. The other voice, oddly enough was Inferno. If he had a reason for helping out, he is currently keeping it to himself. He can be a lot like his sire.”

Chrysta took a sip of her drink and her tired green eyes studied the priest's face.

“I am truly sorry that I shook things up that much for you Templer. If you would like... we can finish this another time?”

The priest followed her example and took a drink. Her suggestion was a good one. He felt as if the inside of his skull had been trashed by a flock of stampeding Terra-birds. Chrysta did not look much better. The talon-ed fingers of his blade-hand tapped a nervous rhythm against the glass.

“I have just one more question and if I don't ask it... the curiosity is going to kill my outrider.”

Azra snarled as one of Chrysta's brows shot up.

“How in the hell did you become friends with Tynan Thranatos, Crown Prince of the House Dracul and only heir to the High Seat of Hell!?”

The woman snorted and set her glass down.

“That's been driving you crazy... hasn't it?”

Templer shrugged.

“The Vamphyrr are, by nature, NOT inclined to mingle with the human race.” (Unless it was feeding time!)

This dark thought the Talon kept to himself. One of the conditions of the Truce was that the denizens of the darker realms refrain from actively hunting humans. He had been called upon more than once to run a rogue to ground when this happened. The Order did not take it lightly when their citizens were used as involuntary fodder. On the other hand, there was no law preventing the practice of a Vamphyrr feeding from a voluntary... pet. The priest's stomach rolled at the thought that Chrysta might be involved in something along those lines. If his companion had any idea of what crossed his mind... she made no comment.

“I am sure you are aware that SOME items that come from the Seven Hells are legal to trade. Several times a year the Order sends a WindClipper to make the run to Mictla'n to pick up trade goods. Edgewater is a stopover. Forrest was assigned as company surgeon to the members of the Fist that were sent to protect the transport. The Prince always accompanies the load back from Hell's gate, along with a number of his personal guard.”

Her gaze drew Templer's to the cloak that he usually wore. The Hell spawned silk was at the top of that short list, although only the Order could distribute it. The lightweight, bullet proof cloth COULD be purchased on the black market but its high cost was prohibitive. As was any product that was exported from those alien lands. No matter how good a Wind-master was... the risk of encountering pirates along the route would be huge.

Templer's slight nod acknowledged his understanding as she continued.

“During one of these visits, Tynan observed a trainer dealing very harshly with a young stallion. This trainer...”

Here, Chrysta's mouth twisted, as if giving that person that particular title tasted bad.

“...pushed the animal a little too far and the destria decided to push back... hard! In the space of a breath the stallion turned on the man and took him down. He savaged the trainer so badly that by the time we managed to drive him off of his victim, there was not a whole lot left that was recognizable. His owner wanted him destroyed. I interfered, as anyone with half a brain could see that the stallion had been driven to the violence. Forrest then got involved. Things were getting more than a little heated when Prince Thranatos stepped forward and... Just appropriated the stallion. Wow, can that man make an impression!”

Templer nodded slightly. He was not sure that describing the Prince as a man was totally accurate but impressive was a word that fit. Of course other good words would be, powerful... terrifying... DEADLY.”

“Let's not forget... Beautiful... charismatic...” Azra interjected.

“Oh yes, that to.”

Chrysta agreed. She was idly tracing designs in the condensation on her glass with one long finger.

“The end result of it all was that Tynan and Forrest became friends. The two of them hired me to train Vera's Silver Flame, which was the stallion's name. I was also hired to teach the Prince the difference between riding a Terra-Bird and a destria! Of course with HIM there was very little teaching involved. He took to riding El Diablo like a natural.”

The look that crossed Templer's face drew a snicker from the woman.

“It was the Prince's fault... Tynan called him that because the stallion's volatile nature reminded him of his father.
In time, Forrest and I married. When he started showing serious signs of coming apart at the seams, Prince Tynan Thranatos pulled some strings and arranged it so that my husband could retire.”

Templer interrupted her here. He knew how tenacious the Order was when it came to containing the Tainted who served.

“How did he manage to pull that off?”

The woman snickered darkly.

“From what I could gather, it involved the threat of physically dismembering certain high ranking officials, one or two of the Hand's top Enforcers and several high ranking members of the Fist. I also suspect there might have been a couple of one way trips to Hell bandied about if any harm came to either of us, after the fact. The Hand DID send a watchdog to keep an eye on our behavior though. I bet you can't guess who?"

The Talon thought hard about it for a moment. The memory of a shotgun just seeming to appear in a certain person's capable large hands came to mind.

“Grant was a Temple Guard?”

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link to next chapter
https://steemit.com/life/@fetherhd/to-race-the-wylde-wynd-chapter-17