To Race the Wylde Wynd Final Chapter

Chyanne wiped down the bar while surreptitiously watching the shadowed presence sitting with his back to the wall at a lonely table. She, like everyone else, had been happy to see Templer after the week he disappeared while on vacation.

Where ever he had gone, it seemed to have done him a world of good. Yes... the priest came back exhausted but he had also been more relaxed, less closed down. The Talon had even taken the tongue lashing that Iniko dished out with unusually good grace. Constantine had spent a lot of the last three months, when he wasn't on a mission, here at the Den rather than holing up at the Order's local Sanctuary. This was something that his friend’s thought was a good sign.

About a week ago though, the quiet man had gotten positively... silent. The woman set the glass down with a sigh. It was very evident to her experienced eye that the introverted priest had met "someone" while he had been away. The Talon answered his Cricket (will wonders ever cease) a couple of times at the bar. Whoever it was he talked to, had made his unreadable face light up, and his dark eyes glimmer like gold in ebony gems. Speaking of which... Chyanne saw a flash of gold and hastily looked away. Templer was depressed enough as it was. He didn't need people staring at him. Something had happened and it was really bothering the man. Chyanne nodded her dark head slightly. Whoever was breaking Constantine's heart was going to get their ass handed to them by yours truly! If ever the chance arose.

“Templer...”

Azra stirred unhappily.

“Shut up... Azra.”

The Talon unconsciously traced a finger over the rim of his almost empty wine glass. He glanced up, catching Chyanne watching him. He was relieved when the woman hurriedly glanced away. Templer needed to forget... her. This could not happen if people kept asking him if he wanted to TALK about it.

“Why has she quit calling?”

Constantine silently asked his outrider.

Azra sighed as and bit back the first answer that came to mind. (I can't answer that AND shut up at the same time!) He only said,

“I don't know Constantine.”

The man pushed him back a little, leaving the demon to his own depressed thoughts. Azra was proud of the way Chrysta whole heartily implemented his advice. She stalked Templer like a superb, intelligent predator. There was nothing overt or aggressive. The woman used silent, SNEAKY tactics designed to not frighten off a wary prey.

At first she just called every couple of days. Sometimes Templer answered his Cricket, more often he didn't. When Chrysta couldn't reach him she did nothing that would seem... pushy. She left innocuous messages about working in Paradise valley to get it ready for the destria, or how well Nuva had healed. Once she was laughing hysterically as she warned him to make the Anesthetic she had sent to him on the first month he was home... last. It seemed that Grant accidentally blew up the still. That was the first time the Talon returned her call, rationalizing to himself that he wanted to make sure NO ONE was injured.

After that, Constantine made it a point to pick up when she called. Azra kept his laughter to himself. Gradually the man became uncomfortable sleeping in his lonely cell at the Sanctuary. The priest started spending more time at Chyanne's Inn, but even that was lacking what the man was unconsciously looking for. The outrider did not fail to register the fact that Templer seemed unhappiest about where he was AFTER talking to Chrysta on the phone for a while.

Most recently, the wily woman started sending pictures and short videos. These usually coaxed a smile from reluctant lips. They were usually accompanied by... interesting... language as she tried to figure out how the cricket's video function operated. One in particular was memorable.

This video showed Paradise Valley flaming with the rich reds, yellows, and golds of the hardwood trees in autumn. Chrysta appeared, riding Zephyr as they came up the river path. Nuva was galloping parallel to the pair with Andrew not so much riding her as seeming a part of her. Bracketed between the two, El Diablo strode. The stallion was unencumbered by any tack, his head thrown high, moving in total freedom. Behind him poured a river of gleaming hides, flowing manes and tossing horned heads. Templer stared in amazement. There must have been thirty old line mares and stallions in that herd. Chrysta and Andrew stopped as they topped the ridge and surprisingly, so did the big silver stallion. They watched as the beasts thundered up and over the ridge, heading down into their new sanctuary. The destria looked like nothing more than an extension of the flaming forest. The sun glimmered off of the reds, gold's, silvers, blacks, and grays as they poured over the rim towards the freedom that Chrysta and El Diablo had risked so much to acquire.

As the last young male passed, El Diablo brushed up against Zephyr. His long muzzle bumped Chrysta hard on the shoulder. Turning away, the old line stallion rose slowly into that beautifully classic Levade. He held this for a long minute, his white mane and tail tossing in the wind. His triumphant bugle rang out, echoing off of the hillsides. Then he launched himself without a backwards glance to follow his "family" down the path to the destiny that awaited them.

Chrysta called shortly after explaining in a voice that could hardly contain her pleasure that many of the Don's had turned over any destria that showed signs of being old line blood into her care. Nuva no longer had to worry about losing the destria's legacy.

They had received one more call after that. The woman sounded tired, but happy. She also sent a picture of a beautiful little log cabin nestled in a picturesque clearing. The lake that occupied one end of Paradise Valley was in the back ground. A one-word message accompanied it. This simply said...HOME.

That had been ten days ago. They had heard nothing since. No one called. No one answered when Templer broke down and tried to call. Azra very much wanted to physically go and check on things, but his host kept shutting him down whenever he tried to suggest it.

The deep roar of an Ether-cycle penetrated the Talon's dark depression. He realized that it must be getting late if Blade was back already. Chyanne would be closing soon. With a soft sigh, he rose intending on heading up to his room. Unfortunately, he was intercepted as Iniko came thundering down the stairs. The Talon couldn't help but wonder how someone so small and slim could be so loud.

She grinned impishly at him,

“Hey long, tall and scary... why don't you quit being so moody, broody and come out to the club with me.”

She didn't even flinch at the dark frown he threw her way,

“It is Templer...and No thank you, I am heading up to bed.”

The girl snorted,

“Come on... EVERYONE knows you don't need to sleep! It'll be fun.”

Azra rumbled quietly,

“I will raise my wager ten to one that the annoying chit doesn't make it to maturity... any takers?”

Templer's lips quirked involuntarily at the irritation in the outrider's tone. Azra had maintained for years that someone would do the little thief in out of sheer annoyance before she had a chance to mature.

“No thank you Iniko. If you are intent on pickling yourself tonight...” He stepped aside. “Be my guest.”

“Your loss Temp.” She blew him a kiss, “HEY... if I hurry, maybe Blade will give me a ride!”

Templer vaguely registered the fact that the soldier had not made it inside yet.

He was halfway up the stairs when there was a shout from outside, followed by the shimmering ring of steel on steel. Iniko's scream had the priest flying down the stairs. The young woman's voice held a note of true terror. As he passed the bar... Chyanne joined him. The sound that came next made his blood run cold and had the Trinity practically leaping into his hand. It was the coughing scream of an enraged destria. The two of them came sliding out of the door, into the dark of night. The scene that the street lamps illuminated froze them both.

Iniko was down, pinned to the ground by the front hoof of a lovely black and red brindled destria. This beast had her black fanged muzzle in the woman's face and was systematically slobbering, licking and whuffling into it. She did a good job of ignoring the frantic shrieks of, "GROSS... Yuck... that's DISGUSTING!"

Evidently the young woman had come running out of the door right under the mare's feet and had startled her. The destria had reacted with remarkable restraint by just restraining the girl and not harming her.

Blade, thinking Iniko was under attack had struck with his sword only to have a great black beast surge forward. It was Zephyr. The slender black sword of Chrysta's deflected the blow but as Blade's heavier sword slid by, it had cut a long shallow slice across the stallion's heavy black shoulder. The destria was up in a battle stance, totally pissed and Chrysta was trying to get him wrestled to the ground. Before the redheaded swordsman could strike again, Templer's deep voice cracked out like a whip.

"EVERYBODY... FREEZE!"

True to his Fist discipline, Blade froze. Chrysta finally got her mount to come back to earth with a shuddering thump. The brindle gave Iniko's face a last swipe and carefully backed off of her so she could get up. The young woman scooted back on her butt until she was against Blade's legs. She stayed there, scrubbing at her face. The soldier glanced uncertainly at the ebony cloaked Talon. Templer didn't return his look. His eyes never left the rider who sheathed her sword and was carefully examining the stallion's injury.

The Talon holstered his gun and was standing quietly with his arms folded, when Chrysta, satisfied that the wound was nothing serious, looked up.

“Hey there... Padre.”

The words were soft and accompanied by a smile.

Templer's black talons tapped a rapid tattoo on his arm.

“You quit calling.” Was all he said.

Chrysta blinked.

“I am sorry Templer, Vortex...” She stabbed a finger at the brindled mare, “...ate my Cricket a couple of days into the trip.”

Said mare looked the gunman in the eye and grinned a wicked destria smile.

Constantine's heart skipped a beat when he looked up into deep yellow eyes that glowed with the fire that burned at the heart of a star.

The woman grinned,

“You would be AMAZED at how people just seem to disappear when you are traveling with three of these guys. Even though I tried... I couldn't borrow a Cricket either. Besides, Nuva REALLY wanted to surprise you. Although in retrospect that probably wasn't the brightest idea she has ever had.”

The cream's head popped up from behind Zephyr's bulk. She seemed amused.

"Hold ON... Did I hear that correctly? You traveled all the way from Paradise Valley... ALONE?!”

This was a deep growl.

Templer saw the woman's eyes narrow.

“Shut up Azra!”

“I will not...”

She was tired and dusty but when Chrysta's smile turned wicked, she was absolutely beautiful in the Talon's eyes. Her husky voice was soft.

“Shut... up... Azra”

Miracle of miracles, the outrider shut up.

Chyanne had been watching the woman unconsciously control the huge animal she rode with her legs alone. Maybe she would just hold off on that ass kicking for a little while.

The woman slid out of the saddle with a groan,

“HOLY, I have been in that saddle so long I was beginning to think that my ass had grown a destria.”

She stretched, rubbed the offending piece of her anatomy and shot the priest a contemplative look.

“The Dons are financing an exploratory run through the Western Waste. They are going to take a crack at setting up a Trade Route connecting the Realm to the Golden lands in the West. As winner of the Gauntlet... I have the honor of Ramrodding this little adventure.” Her shadowed eyes never left his face. “Since we are going to be passing through Mictla'n I am here to requisition the Hand for a Rank of the Fist's best and one Talon... to augment our own guards.”

Templer's brows flew up. These Don's had balls... they were going to try and establish a silk road that included HELL. Chrysta smiled as she watched him put the pieces together.

“SOOOO... Constantine, what do you think? Do you and that ancient reprobate you host feel like coming with us to race the desert wind?”

The priest froze as he was overcome by conflicting emotion. Azra gave him a gentle mental nudge.

“Come on... Templer. You were willing to die for her... Why are you not willing to LIVE for her?!”

Templer's friends couldn't believe it when the priest covered the distance to the woman in the space of a breath. He enfolded her in his cloak, strong arms pressing her against his lean body. For a moment, it seemed as if both were wrapped in warm, dark wings. Chrysta looked up, her green eyes searching Templer's gold ones.

Azra's exultant,

“YES...!!” rolled through them both as the woman found what she was looking for. Her lips curved in a slow, contented smile as the Talon's mouth gently traced her jaw and his warm lips closed over hers. His outrider was included when Templer Constantine finally opened his heart and claimed the one that they loved.

The End

(For now!)

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Link to first Chapter
https://steemit.com/fiction/@fetherhd/to-race-the-wild-wind-chapter-1
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