To Race the Wylde Wynd Chapter 13

Templer was on the roof of the Ironwood when Chrysta and Zephyr came in that evening. The sun dipped behind dark storm clouds gathering on the horizon. The priest had been stopped when he returned with Nuva by security guards now posted in the courtyard. This was one of the items Grant and Chrysta had discussed that morning. El Diablo's gate had been deliberately opened, and Chrysta was taking no chances with the unpredictable animal getting out. These same guards approached her as she dismounted.

The gunman waited as the woman led the big black into the barn, then reappeared to take care of El Diablo's needs. He had noticed that the stable-hands did not deal with the dangerous stallion. Templer also noted that like the night before, while she worked around this particular destria, there was no sign of Chrysta's ever present limp. After making sure the animal had food, and water. The woman checked that the gate was locked. She also confirmed that the electricity to the fence was on. She stood for a long moment watching the beast. El Diablo stopped his eternal prowling and returned her look with a coldly antagonistic one of his own. The Talon heard her soft sigh as she turned and headed towards the door, her graceful stride again marred by a pained limp.

It took Templer a few moments to slip back into the room via the window. He was surprised by a soft knock at the door. When he opened it, Chrysta stood there loaded down with a tray full of food and a pitcher of what looked like tea. She carefully eased her way into the room.

“Grant caught me before I could sneak up the stairs. He said something about one of us being too skinny.”

She glanced at the gunman out of the corner of her eye as she deposited the tray on the table.

“I expect that would be you.”

Templer was a little daunted by the amount of food that the barman had sent up.

“I do not need to eat again today.”

The woman snorted.

“Neither do I. He made it very clear he doesn't care. If we don't eat, all we get to drink is... Tea!”

Her lip curled in disdain at the thought.

“I don't know about you, but I am NOT divulging my life's deep, dark secrets with nothing in my system but... TEA! You need to either eat your share or help me figure out what else to do with it.”

He eyed her hopefully,

“Why don't we go down and tell him we aren't hungry.”

The hope died a cruel death when she snickered.

“Yeah, you go ahead and give that a try. Don't forget to let me know how it works out.”

“Hnnn...”

Templer wouldn't admit it, but he agreed with her assessment of the situation.

“I believe I have seen several stray cats in the area.”

“I like the way your mind works Constantine. Although... I think Nuva and Zephyr might enjoy some of this.”

Chrysta did a quick perusal of the tray. After selecting several smaller items that could be munched on as needed, she bundled the rest up in a couple of napkins. The larger one was handed to the gunman with instructions on splitting it between the two destria. The smaller one was for the strays.

Templer accepted the bundles while giving her a dark look.

“Why am I the one who gets to disperse this?”

“One, it was your idea. Two, unlike you, I am at least going to eat a little.” Chrysta poked him in the chest with a forefinger. “And three, this old lady is NOT climbing out a second story window!”

“Old lady my ass!”

He muttered as he dropped to the courtyard and slipped past the guards. All the gunman needed was for Grant to catch him in the act. If that happened he would be drinking nothing but TEA for the rest of the week, or worse yet, plain water!

It took Constantine the better part of a half hour to get the goodies divided up between the two delighted destria and a hoard of stray cats. Then he had to figure out how to get back in without alerting the sentries.

Chrysta was sitting at the table when he made it back into the room. She had finished some of the munchies and was half halfheartedly sipping a glass of the chilled tea. The woman had taken the opportunity to change into a loose shirt and soft flannel pants while he had been occupied. Templer sat down opposite her and accepted the glass that she had already filled for him. She watched him silently as he made himself comfortable.

“Sooo...” She set her glass down. “Where would you like to begin?”

The priest thought about it for a moment as he sampled his drink.

“How much did Dr. Denia tell you about me?”

“At first Forrest TOLD me nothing of his service in the Maker's labs.” Chrysta shook her head at the Talon's skeptical look. “His Bindings were much the same as yours.” The woman ignored the way Templer's brows lifted in surprise and continued. “Initially... the things that I learned were just bits and pieces that I put together listening in on his dreams. He had terrible nightmares, and he talked a lot in his sleep. There were many sleepless nights that I laid by him and listened to the horrible experiments he had witnessed and participated in. I believe that without... outside... help, Forrest eventually would have gone insane.”

Templer snorted.

“You will have to pardon me if I can't dredge up any sympathy for him. At least the Maker's did not turn him into an inhuman monster.”

“Oh, I wouldn't be so quick to say that. Have you ever wondered what taking a Healer and making him commit acts that are inherently abhorrent over and over again, does to his psyche? Not even the Binding could block the emotional turmoil it caused. By the time Forrest finally got away from the labs, he considered himself a monster in every sense of the term. I almost lost him when the Prince helped to break his Vows and the true scope of the atrocities he helped commit were revealed. Ty was hard pressed to preserve not only my husband's sanity in those first horrible moments but also his life. We found out the hard way it is quite possible for a Healer to will themselves into death. Forrest came close to achieving this! It took a long time and a lot of help before he found his mental balance and was able to come to terms with it. Rest assured Constantine. Yours isn't the only life the Makers have screwed over!”

Chrysta stopped, sipped her tea then looked hard at the Talon for a moment.

“You don't look like a monster to me, Templer Constantine. Why on earth would you believe you are one?”

The gunman hesitated. The only people who knew the full scope of what a Talon was capable of were his Makers and the poor souls that he was trained to Hunt. As for himself... there were vague memories that he DID retain. They were not clear... and consisted mainly of images of blood and destruction. These were accompanied by feelings of guilt and shame that ran too deep for his Binding to eradicate. He had a paralyzing fear that the differences between what he had been BEFORE his Making and what he had become, were few and dealt mainly in the matter of scale. His Vows... and the tinkering that the Order did in his head on occasion fragmented most of what he could recall. After decades of this... the man truly could not differentiate between memory and what might be just terrible dreams. All of a sudden he realized that this one time he wanted, no... NEEDED to unburden his soul to a sympathetic ear. But that need was tempered by the knowledge that the friendship he had found here with this unusual woman would end because of what he revealed.

Azra stirred.

“Our Vows will not let you do this Host. Please be careful. It won't help your case if you blow us all to hell and back!”

Giving an internal nod to his concerned outrider... the man glanced up, almost afraid to meet his waiting roommate's eyes.

“I do not remember but there is a part of me that feels I was a monster BEFORE my Making. If this is not so... why has God chosen to punish me with this cruel Penance? Do you know what being a Talon entails?”

She held his gaze while nodding slowly.

“Everyone has seen at least one cleansing Templer, and all the Realm's citizens have stood through their own Sorting. It is a Talon's job to dispense justice and deal with those that do not pass the Testing. This is common knowledge.”

Common knowledge... Templer did not know whether to scream or sob. He could not number the Tainted children he had burnt into ash... not because of what they were, but because of what they might BECOME. He had faced others not as severely afflicted as Judge and jury, offering the bitter choice of a life given up in service or death. There were many who chose to fight rather than kneel to receive their Markings. To these he was also Executioner. Worse yet, were the rare cases when whole towns refused the Sorting. The Hand had one response to this. When the Reaper walked away, he left nothing but ash rising into a darkening sky and no soul left to grieve the loss.

Templer dropped his eyes as guilt seared his heart and pain savaged his mind. Just the act of trying to organize his thoughts enough to explain that “common knowledge” did not come close to the true facts was enough to trigger his Binding. He heard Azra's hiss of pain as the outrider got caught in the overflow. The priest ignored it as he attempted to ride the wave... working at finding a way to get what he wanted to say out. For several long moments Templer fought to circumnavigate his Vows. For every new attempt, he was rewarded with a pulse of increased agony. The Talon trapped a scream behind his teeth and tried to drown out Azra's tense warning that if he did not stop he would damage himself! The demon's voice did not break through... the OTHER one did!

“Stop this... Templer... STOP! Mother of Demons! It's okay. Constantine... you have to LET IT GO!”

There was true pain in the woman's voice, enough so that the Talon's head snapped up in concern.

“Holy!” Chrysta's face as she stared back at him was drawn, and her hands shook as she set her tea glass down.

“Constantine, it truly sucks to be you!”

She tried to smile at him but instead pushed back her chair and staggered into the bathroom. Templer could not drown out the sound of her vomiting.

“Well, that's unexpected.”

The outrider sounded concerned.

Templer felt terrible and not just because of the sickening head-ache pounding behind his eyes. He knocked on the door.

“Are you all right in there?”

“It's okay Templer,” Chrysta's voice was still a little shaky. “This isn't your fault. Why don't you go and tell Grant we are in desperate need of some Anesthetic up here.”

As he descended the stairs, the priest wondered if maybe he shouldn't gather up his things and leave before he caused these good people any more distress. If it made the woman that sick just to look at him... he did not really want to know what she was thinking.

“Don't... you... dare!” Azra was adamant, “There is something odd going on here and I want some answers. If you try leaving, I will cramp up BOTH of your legs!”

By the time Templer made it back to the room, Chrysta had moved the chairs over by the open window. The cool night breeze had returned some of the color to her cheeks. The gunman poured two small glasses of the potent blue alcohol then set the bottle on the window sill. The woman quietly contemplated El Diablo as the priest sat back down.

“I can understand...” She started to speak but he cut her off before the sentence was finished.

“NO... you can't understand, not one of you can even come close to understanding how with every day that passes a little more of what makes me human gets stripped away. When it is all gone, WHAT in the seven hells do you think will be left?”

The words came out harsher than he had intended. Chrysta turned from her perusal of the courtyard. The eyes that met his held compassion, and... anger.

“No, YOU don't understand.” she smiled and there was something sad and terrible lurking there. “I am more aware than you know of how terrible you feel.”

Chrysta sighed and then took a long drink out of her glass.

“During the day, you are just about the most heavily shielded person I have run across in a long time. But, when you were dreaming last night, and as you were struggling just now... your shields shattered. Even knowing that I shouldn't I HAD to wake you this morning. You were broadcasting your nightmare. It was so terrible I couldn't block it out.”

She must have noticed the confusion on his face because she snorted a quick humorless laugh.

“My mother and father were both trainers. I guess you can say the career runs in my blood in more ways than one. You may have noticed there are few women who work with destria. If a woman absorbs too much venom it causes lethal mutations in any children she might conceive later on. My mother was aware of this. When she became pregnant with me she fully expected that I would not survive full term. Imagine her surprise when not only did I survive but was born a healthy, seemingly normal child.”

She hesitated a moment as it was a Talon that turned to study her with cold, narrowed eyes.

“Oh relax Templer... I stood my Sorting and passed the Test. I am not Tainted. The mutations that occurred before birth do not stem from the Re-Gen Plague. They didn't show up until I hit puberty, about that same time that I took my first hit of destria venom. While I suffered from the poisoning I kept hearing voices in my head. At first I thought it was from the fever. Then I realized that the couple of destria I was working with at the time were talking to me.”

Azra had risen and the outrider also studied the woman with suspicion. The woman shot a quick glance Templer's way and seeing the expression of disbelief on his face she stopped talking and her own eyes narrowed.

“OH... you have GOT to be kidding me! What I do is NOT elemental in nature. I would think you of all people...”

Chrysta looked the priest in the eye and softly growled,

“Nuva, come out into your paddock and say hello to Mr. Suspicious here.” The woman's eye color shifted until it was bright blue.

Templer watched in amazement as the mare came trotting out, faced the window and gave a whistling call.
His companion smiled a grim smile at the look on the gunman's face.

“It's NOT a result of the Plague. If you need more proof, priest... you go ahead and have your... FRIEND... do his thing!”

Chrysta's eyes hardened and chilled to an ice green. This time she whispered.

“Diablo, you are a mother fucking asshole.”

Out in his paddock, the massive silver threw up his head and screamed a hateful challenge back.

“WOW... she is not Tainted host. I don't have to Test her. This tastes of something entirely different!”

As Azra finished, Chrysta's head turned towards him. Templer had a sudden epiphany.

“You can hear my outrider, can't you?” The Talon wasn't surprised when she nodded. He would be the first to admit, he was more than a little freaked out.

“Can you read my mind also?”

“I think Azra must broadcast on the same wave length as the destria. They also "hear" him. I can pick up thoughts from other people's minds if I push hard enough. I have learned to maintain strong shields as it is easy to get overwhelmed. I pick up strong emotions very easily.”

The woman smiled at the look that must have crossed Templer's face as the implications of what Chrysta could do with that particular talent sank home.

“You can relax. As I said before, you have some very tight shielding. It is probably an offshoot of having to deal with your internal... guest. I can pick up very little from you and I am not inclined to push where I am not invited. God knows you have had MORE than enough fingers stirring that particular pot!”

This last was quietly muttered and Templer doubted the woman realized it had been heard. Chrysta smiled and reached out to pat his hand.

“What does get out is mostly emotion. And it only leaks out when it is very strong. So Templer Constantine, having "felt" one of your nightmares and been gut punched by what some sadist has done to your mind... I can honestly say that I do understand some of what you FEEL. I definitely understand what it means to have someone else in your head ALL of the time. Once one of them...” She nodded in the direction of the barn, “...bonds with me, it is very hard to block them without a lot of effort. It can be extremely inconvenient at times.”

Templer couldn't help but chuckle at the wry tone this last bit was delivered in. He knew that the term inconvenient was the understatement of the century. Maybe she DID understand more about him than he had realized.

“UHMMM, Templer… Do you think she heard the monkey comment earlier?”

Azra was trying to whisper, not an easy thing for the demon to do.

The priest watched as Chrysta tossed back the last of her Anesthetic and poured each of them a little more. She was biting her lower lip and kept her eyes glued to her task. The woman gave an imperceptible nod of her head.

“OH CRAP!”

Templer got the distinct impression that the demon was looking for a rock to crawl under. He couldn't help himself.

“I thought you said it was okay for demons to have depraved thoughts?”

He made the comment in complete innocence.

“Oh... Shut Up, Constantine!”

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Link to next chapter
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