The Battle Sylph (12 page)

Just as he could feel the faint touches from other members of his hive scattered throughout this strange, solid world. There weren’t many, but they were there, and he reached for them desperately…only to feel their regret. He even felt the grief of a battler who couldn’t come to his aid, much as he wanted to. He was on his own, the battler breathed distantly. Only Solie could help him, if he could find her.

Heyou was convinced he could. Find the queen, protect the queen. Nothing else mattered.

He stumbled along a narrow trail, leaning heavily on his makeshift staff. It was cold out and he wasn’t used to that, wasn’t used to the sensation of cold at all, nor that of dying. Heyou gritted his newly created teeth and fought for strength, head bowed low as he kept walking. Walk long enough and he would reach her. Only, he could tell she was moving herself, faster. Didn’t she know she was leaving him behind?

He’d never reach her, he realized desperately, not like this. But he didn’t have the energy to change shape anymore. It was all bleeding invisibly out of him. That other battler had known what he was doing.

Heyou shuddered, determined, absolutely resolute not to give up—and stumbled, falling to the ground. The world went away for a while.

It all came back with the sound of hooves. Heyou opened his eyes, finding that he was lying full-length on the ground and wasn’t dead yet. Everything hurt, though. And someone was coming. He forced his head up, lifting himself on his forearms, and saw the gray legs of a horse as it made its
way down the trail toward him. Dazed, he looked up the animal to the big man who sat astride, peering down at him through a bushy beard and a fur cloak.

“Isn’t this a sight?” the man said lightly, and Heyou had one final moment before he passed out to curse the fact that he’d been found by another bloody human male.

Leon’s lips were tight as he strode down the hallway toward the king’s audience chamber. On his shoulder was Ril, stiff with fury, his hate flaring out.

They hadn’t learned anything from the old man or the girl’s aunt, nor from the father—nothing more than that the girl’s name was Solie and the battler’s Heyou, and that he didn’t seem to hate her, even as she barely kept control of him. The aunt hadn’t even realized he wasn’t human, and only Devon’s father had recognized him as a battler…at least until he’d attacked the girl’s father.

Leon had gathered what information he could and prepared to head out again, to track the pair more carefully this time, when an air sylph appeared with a message ordering him to report to the king. The timing couldn’t have been worse. If he didn’t start following the group immediately, they could escape. He was skillful, but time was every tracker’s enemy. The girl was unprepared and the battler injured. Now was the moment to find them. Instead, he was being forced to dawdle. Worse, he could see the king wanting to know what he was doing, and demanding the deaths of everyone who knew what Heyou was. The girl and the battler were even more likely to escape if Leon had to waste time hiding her family.

Leon reached the sylph alcove before the audience chamber and looked up to see Mace. The battler hit him with his hate, but Leon was already in such a foul mood he didn’t care—and Ril actually hissed at the enormous sylph in response.

Leon sighed and shifted his battler to the usual perch. “I’ll be right back,” he told Ril and headed for the door. The two battlers stared silently at his back.

A servant held the door to the audience chamber open for him and announced his arrival. Leon walked in and bowed to the man sitting on the throne. Jasar stood grumpily below the dais and glared. Thrall stood to one side behind the throne, staring at him. The hate coming from the battler was cloying.

“Your Majesty,” Leon said. “I’ve come as ordered.”

“Yes.” The king rubbed his chin. “Tell me what’s happened.”

Leon straightened. The sooner he reported, the sooner he could get out of there. “The girl’s name is Solie. She named the battle sylph Heyou and took him to her aunt’s bakery in the village of Otalo, just south of here.”

“ ‘Hey, you?’ ” Jasar repeated dryly.

“Apparently,” Leon said. “Ril fought and injured the battler, but they escaped after the fight. I know they’re heading north, in the company of an air-sylph master named Devon Chole. I don’t know yet why he’s helping her. I’ll have to ask when I find him.” He fell silent, watching the king chew on a thumbnail.

Alcor stared at him for a few moments, then looked over at Jasar. His eyes again found Leon’s. “Take him with you,” he commanded.

“What?” both men shouted—Leon in shock, Jasar in horror.

“Your Majesty!” the dandy gasped, stepping forward. “You can’t expect me to go out into the wilderness again.”

“I can, and I do,” the king snapped. “You shouldn’t have killed that courtier. I want you out of my sight for a while.”

Jasar jerked back and shot a hateful look at Leon, as though this were his fault. “Yes, Your Majesty. I suppose another trip on an air ship will be refreshing.” He almost spat the last word.

The king looked amused. “I doubt Leon can track anyone from an air ship.”

“No, Your Majesty. We’ll have to ride.”

“Ride?” the dandy shrieked again.

The king waved a hand in dismissal. “Report when you’re done” was his final command.

Leon bowed and left. His face showed nothing, but he was outraged. Alcor didn’t care who knew about the battler, at least for now, but his new companion was less than useless. The last time they’d worked together, to ambush those pirates, Jasar had commandeered the captain’s quarters and refused to come out for anything. At least he’d sent his battler to fight the pirates when they attacked, but that was probably just to protect himself—and he’d ordered Mace back well before the job was finished. The only good thing about the trip was the fact that Leon hadn’t seen much of him. Now they were going to have to travel in much closer quarters.

He went out and down the hall to the alcove, well aware that Jasar was following him; the dandy’s curses were loud and relentless. Leon collected Ril and turned to his supposed partner, careful to keep the contempt out of his face and voice.

“We leave in an hour, my lord. Make yourself ready.”

Jasar stared as though he were mad. “An hour? I can’t possibly be ready in an hour! We’ll have to leave in the morning.”

Leon’s eyes narrowed. “They could disappear for good in that time.”

Jasar, however, was already walking away, Mace following. “In the morning,” he repeated, waving. “After breakfast.”

Leon watched the courtier go, and only belatedly became aware that he was grinding his teeth. Ril peered at him appraisingly, no hatred coming from him at all, and Leon stomped off toward a new destination. If he was going
to be stuck here overnight, he was at least going to spend it with his family.

Heyou felt warm, leaning back against something that moved beneath him, hearing a steady thump in his ear. His feet were cold, though, and he could smell nothing but fur and animal.

Slowly, he opened his eyes. He was sitting in front of someone on a horse, leaning back against their body while they rode. They had their cloak drawn around him, but his feet dangled down below to be chilled by the night air. He could hear the person’s heartbeat under his ear and could feel them breathing.

He actually felt better than he had—in pain but not so exhausted. He blinked, simply sitting quietly for a moment. The rider had an arm across his abdomen, holding Heyou on the horse, and he smelled of old blood and dirt.

He?

Heyou snapped upright, pulling himself away from the man with a gasp, but the arm tightened before he could fall from the saddle.

“Easy now,” he heard a voice say. “Don’t do that, you’ll spook my horse.”

Startled, Heyou looked over his shoulder at the bearded face of the man who’d found him earlier. Almost, Heyou hit him with his hate, but he stopped himself. He felt better, but he was too weak to change shape—and, if he was honest with himself, too frightened. He didn’t know where that other battler was. He didn’t want any more fights, and Solie had told him to hide himself. Heyou swallowed hard and did as ordered.

“Who are you?” he croaked.

“Galway,” the man told him. “I found you dying in the woods. Figured I’d take you to the nearest town.”

“Why?” Heyou paused to cough. “Why would you do that?”

The man shrugged. “I’ve got a bunch of kids at home, including a son your age. Sure as hell would want someone to pick him up if they found him lost. What’s your name, boy?”

Heyou looked away. He hated this stranger, loathed him as a matter of course, but…the man had saved him. “Heyou,” he whispered.

“Hey you? Weird name for a boy.”

Heyou glared. “It is not!”

Galway shrugged. “Weird’s not so bad. It’ll do.”

Heyou didn’t answer, staring off into the distance and sitting so stiff that his back began to hurt. He didn’t want this man touching him, didn’t want him anywhere nearby, but he was too weak to walk on his own. Whatever the motive, at least this man was taking him in the right direction. He could feel his queen moving far ahead of him and still going north. He might be able to catch her now, if this man was willing to help.

He grimaced. The thought of asking for assistance made him ill, and he couldn’t threaten. He was too weak to change or fight, and he didn’t dare use his hate aura. He had to rely on charity.

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply and trying to calm himself, seeking to remember Solie and that he did this for her. “Can you help me?” he asked slowly. “I need to find someone.”

“Oh?” the man asked. “Who’s that?”

“My qu—girl. She’s traveling north.”

“Not much north of here, unless she’s heading to Para Dubh.” The man guided his horse around a fallen log. There was a second animal following them, Heyou saw, furs piled high on its back. “Why’d she leave you behind?”

Heyou nearly hit him with hate. “She just did. She
doesn’t know where I am.” He stretched a little, wincing at a pain in his side just so he could get a bit of distance between them. “I have to get to her. Will you help me?”

“Well…” Galway considered while Heyou contemplated several different ways to kill him for dragging the answer out. “I got traps up north. I suppose I could take you a ways. It’s good to have company for a while.”

Heyou looked away and didn’t speak again, humiliated but relieved. Perhaps now he could catch up to his queen.

Devon sat beside Cal on the wagon seat, only half listening to the man ramble. Airi played with his hair while Solie slept in the back on top of the supplies, and Stria stacked blocks and played with marbles. Sometimes, to Devon’s amazement, she spoke out loud to her master, something that was forbidden in Eferem but apparently normal in this community they were seeking. He’d quietly told Airi she could speak out loud, but she still only spoke to him, and then only into his mind. There was a greater intimacy that they both appreciated, and he didn’t bring the subject up again.

He was intrigued by this alleged community, but still too stressed to really think about it much. He had no idea if his father was okay, and the worry over that was close to driving him insane. He also didn’t know if they were being followed, and finally looked up at his air sylph, needing the truth. If they were being tracked by Leon and his battler, they’d only get these people killed.

“Airi,” he whispered. “Go back to the village and find my father. Find out if he’s okay and if anyone’s tracking us. If you can, find out if Solie’s aunt and father are okay, too. But be careful! Don’t take any risks.”

Okay,
she answered, and was gone, sweeping away on the winds. Devon sighed and huddled deeper in his cloak, staring at the forest they were traversing. She’d be back. The
distance wasn’t far for her, and she knew how to be discreet. She would be fine. He’d count the seconds until her return, though.

He went back to looking at the scenery—not that there was much. The forest was made of pine trees and brush, the ground broken by ridges and low hills that had the road slowly climbing upward and winding. The horses labored, but they did get the cart through the hills, even if the bouncing eventually woke Solie and made Devon feel somewhat nauseous. Cal kept chattering on about his childhood.

As the horses went around a huge boulder to find a large gap in the road, Devon said, “Um,” wondering if the man even noticed. He was rambling on about his son now, and letting the horses make their own way, not doing much more than randomly glancing at the route. The horses walked on, heading for the gap, and Devon started to pray they were smart enough to stop.

“Stria!” Cal called suddenly, then went on with his story. In the back of the wagon, the earth sylph scooped up her marbles and put them back in the bag before hopping down off the wagon. While Devon watched, she ran past them and dove into the ground, vanishing.

The gap suddenly filled, and the horses continued unhindered. It was actually the smoothest part of the road they’d been on so far. Devon looked behind them, and once the horses were over the break, Stria reappeared, scurrying after the wagon.

Devon looked at Cal. “Nice trick,” he said.

Cal beamed. “That’s why I got this job. There are places you can’t take a horse, but Stria can get me anywhere. She’s awesome.” He beamed over his shoulder at the sylph, who was settling back in the wagon and reopening her marble bag. She glanced up and smiled, her grin eerily wider than a human’s and with far too many teeth.

Devon looked back at the road. Sylphs looked however they wanted, he reminded himself, and wondered again how his own sylph was doing.

Airi found a wind stream high up that was going the way she wanted and floated on it, letting it carry her and do all the work. She was still a little tired, and nervous, but she was happy to be busy again. Devon hadn’t said anything, and she doubted he ever would, but she’d terrified him by saving Solie. She was still sure it had been the right decision, but it had made his life much harder and she hadn’t meant to do that. Thus, while she always obeyed him, she was acting more quickly about it this time. If he wanted her to find her old master, she would. It was the least she could do.

She could still feel the old man, for he would always be her master, no matter whom he gave her to. She had a newer bond with Devon, but the patterns of former masters would stay with her for as long as she lived. She could ignore these, though, and when Donal Chole had given her away, she had. She’d done the same with his grandfather. She didn’t want to go back to her hive, which she would when all of her masters died, but she wanted someone to want her as more than a possession, someone who wanted her to stay with him for the entirety of his life—and who would at least ask her if she minded being handed on. She hoped Devon would do that when the time came, though she hadn’t brought the matter up.

At least with him she could ask. He was the only one of her masters to give her permission to speak. Devon’s father had been horrified when he’d found out, and he’d never spoken to her himself. Now he’d have to.

Airi soared down into the town, careful to watch for any other sylphs. There were none, and she hadn’t sensed any as she approached. Battlers rarely had the inclination to hide, and she could only sense the ones at the castle.

Soaring around the ruins of the devastated town, she examined each of the people, searching until she found Devon’s father. He sat at a small table outside the bakery, his hand shaking as he drank from a mug.
Donal,
Airi whispered into his mind, and the old man spat a gout of cofiacross the table before looking in shock at the shimmer of atmosphere she created.

“Airi?” he gasped, and looked around to make sure no one else saw. “Where’s my son?”

Safe,
she answered, able to speak to him in the same way she did Devon.
We’re heading to a town in the north. Is anyone following us?