The Battle Sylph (17 page)

Unknown to Solie, Heyou glared at the girls over her body, his expression a very clear warning. Swallowing, the girls fled, and he returned contentedly to his queen, completely baffled himself by what had happened, but happy that the other sylphs also seemed to think Solie was their queen. It made this place feel like a proper hive. At the very least, they knew not to approach her, and now the humans did as well. Those girls could find somewhere else to sleep while he spent the rest of the night here pleasing his queen.

Galway grabbed the kettle from the fire as it started to whistle and poured some water into a mug, adding tea leaves. His shoulders hunched against the cold, he carried the mug back to the tent shared by most of the single men. It wasn’t much warmer inside, and he left his heavy cloak on as he went to a cot partway down the right side. Devon was there, still shaking, his face ashen and one hand pressed over his mouth. Galway didn’t understand what had happened, but apparently it terrified the other man.

He handed Devon the mug and forced him to take a swallow. “Are you going to tell me what happened?” he asked.

“You don’t want to know,” Devon replied. “Trust me, you don’t. Gods, that was so close. He could have killed us all.”

“Heyou?” Galway asked, puzzled. “That’s crazy.”

“You have no idea.”

The tent flap opened, a blast of cold wind preceding Morgal and some of the men who now led the Community. All of them looked shaken and angry. Devon put the mug down, his hands still trembling so badly that he nearly dropped it.

“What’s going on with the sylphs?” Morgal demanded. “I think you two know.”

“Not me.” Galway shrugged. He regarded Devon appraisingly. “He thinks Heyou is dangerous.”

“Heyou?” Morgal asked. “Who’s Heyou?”

“The boy who was injured,” one of the other men reminded him. His name was Norlud. “The one Luck nearly killed herself to heal.”

“How’d he get hurt?” asked a third man, called Borish. “I didn’t see a mark on him when he got here.”

Devon ran his hands through his hair, staring at nothing. “He got into a fight with one of the battlers that attacked you. They devastated the village they were in.”

The men of the Community stared. “That’s impossible.”

Devon took a shaky breath. He couldn’t keep this secret. Someone might die if he did. “Heyou—” He choked. “Heyou’s a battle sylph.”

The eight men stared in shock. “He’s a boy!” Galway shouted. Devon hadn’t imagined the trapper could get so worked up. “Just a boy!”

Devon shook his head, his mouth dry. “No, he’s not. I watched him destroy that village. I saw him blow the side of the castle out after he killed the crown prince. I felt him scream his hate from miles away. He’s a battle sylph. Somehow, something went wrong when he was summoned, and now he belongs to Solie.” He stared up at the men, weighing their shock. It looked severe, but they had to know the rest. “She’s his master,” he continued. “She’s got him pretending to be human so they can fit in. Only, I think…I think he did something with her tonight.” He gave a bitter laugh. “He’s made it pretty obvious he’s wanted her since I met him.”

“Why didn’t he kill you?” Borish asked in a shaken voice. “Or the rest of us?”

“Solie wouldn’t let him. But he nearly killed my father, and he did kill a lot of other people who got in the way. I have no idea how much control she has over him.”

The men seemed wholly flabbergasted. “What do we do?” asked an older man named Bock.

“What we all do around battlers,” Devon said. “Don’t anger him. Just keep out of his way, and stay away from her. Don’t even touch her. He’ll kill to protect her.”

“I don’t believe you!” Galway snapped. “He’s a normal boy.”

“You felt that aura on the edge of the cliff, didn’t you?
The one that made every sylph vanish? Mine isn’t even back yet. Are any of yours? That was him warning us away from her.”

“But…” Galway sat down slowly, still shaking his head. “I found him in the woods. He never did anything to me.”

“He was hurt then. He needed your help. Ril tore him apart in their fight. He might not have had the strength to be a threat before, but he’s healed now.”

“Why would Luck heal him?” Morgal whispered. The man was gray. An uncontrolled battler in his community, just after they lost a third of their people to two others? Devon was pretty sure he was about to lose his mind.

“Who knows. They don’t think the same way people do.”

“Maybe we can use him to protect the Community,” Norgal suggested.

“That’s insane!” Bock snapped.

“I want proof,” Morgal said, causing Devon to glance up at him. “I want proof that he’s a battler. Until then, why should I believe you?”

“You want to wait for him to kill someone?” Devon asked.

“Hardly. But I’ve seen battlers before, too, and I can’t believe he’s one. You’ll have to prove it.” Morgal took a deep breath. “We’ll decide on what to do next after that.”

Devon shook his head. He’d have to talk to Solie, he thought with dread, providing he could. Whatever it was that had happened tonight between the two, Heyou looked as though he was being a lot more protective. He sighed and rubbed his temples. Maybe his obliterated body would be proof enough.

Whatever happened, it would have to wait for morning, because he was not going to interrupt whatever was going on in Solie’s tent. Not now. He doubted any of them were going to get much sleep tonight.

Leon had been waking up at dawn for years, though Betha complained whenever he did so at home. He liked the concept of sleeping in, but it just never seemed to happen. Since they’d left on this journey, he’d been up as the sun rose every day, getting his gear ready and preparing his breakfast, making as much noise as he could until Jasar reluctantly dragged himself out of bed and ordered Mace to make breakfast and clean up after him. He’d even forced the battler to shave him before grudgingly agreeing to move. They’d cut this ritual down to about an hour, but it still drove Leon to distraction.

This morning he woke and opened his eyes, glancing up to where Ril perched on the saddlebag next to his head. The bird was ignoring him, staring at something in the camp. Rubbing his eyes, Leon rolled over and looked.

Mace was breaking camp. The battler had most of the gear packed already, and both horses were saddled. Leon watched in surprise, wondering what had Jasar so motivated, but the other man was still in his tent, snoring.

As Leon watched, Mace stomped over, pulled out the pole that held the tent up, and started folding the fabric. This uncovered the sleeping man inside, who continued to snore. Leon raised an eyebrow. Mace carried the tent to the packhorse, stowed it, and went back. Grabbing the end of Jasar’s blanket, he yanked it right off his master and started rolling that up as well. That woke Jasar. Sprawled halfnaked in the dirt, he started shrieking obscenities, but his battler completely ignored him and went to pack the blanket.

It was surreal. Battlers didn’t do anything on their own initiative, not unless it involved killing someone. But Mace was breaking camp. He stomped in Leon’s direction, and Leon rolled out of bed before the sylph could dump him on the ground as well. Mace rolled up his blankets and took
them and Leon’s saddlebags to his gray. This was the first time such a thing had ever occurred.

Ril, who had flown out of the way, landed on Leon’s shoulder and shot him a look that mirrored Leon’s puzzlement.

“Mace!” Jasar shrieked. “You bastard! Stop putting my things away!”

Mace ignored him.

Leon scrambled to his feet, one hand on a very tense Ril. He backed off, staring at the massive armored sylph.

“Get over here!” Jasar commanded, pointing to the ground before him.

With a reluctance that would have made Leon extremely nervous if it came from Ril, Mace went to his master, who proceeded to screech at him for his behavior. “Get my breakfast!” he finished at last.

Mace returned to the horses. Pulling a handful of dried meat from one of the saddlebags, he threw it at his master—which was the act that finally permeated Jasar’s oblivious confidence. He stared at his battler in fear, then looked at Leon.

“What’s wrong with him?” he whined.

Leon didn’t have the faintest idea. He’d never seen a battler come so close to outright defiance. He grabbed his cloak and stroked Ril with what he would have recognized as a nervous gesture, if he weren’t so distracted.

“Get dressed and get on your horse,” he told the courtier. “I don’t feel comfortable here.”

Jasar looked around at the nearly lifeless plain. They’d made camp in the lee of a massive boulder that blocked the wind, but the air was still very cold and their breath steamed. The clouds overhead were heavy, promising snow. Other than themselves and the odd gray bush, there was no life.

“Are we in danger? Is that why he wants us to go?” Absorbing
the idea, Jasar scrambled into his clothes and hurried to his horse faster than Leon had ever seen.

Mace took the lead as they headed out, walking at a near jog across the Shale Plain. They had reached the end of the official road shortly before dark, and the battler followed the strange ridged line that continued off from it. Towing the packhorse behind, he set off, Jasar on his heels and already bitching about the cold now that his nerves were steady again.

Leon followed more slowly with Ril, not wanting to get close to the other battler. Ril was so nervous that he didn’t reach out with any hate, staring at Mace instead. It was a very uncomfortable ride.

Solie woke up tangled with Heyou, her head pillowed on his chest. She heard no heartbeat and her head snapped up, her heart pounding.

Heyou smiled. “Morning.” He looked fresh and rested.

“Did you sleep?” she asked.

“No. I don’t sleep much.”

She blinked and looked around. They were still in the girls’ tent, crammed together on the tiny bed. She blushed, remembering the night before.

“What happened to the others?”

“They went away.” He kissed her bare shoulder and she shivered, quickly sitting up and grabbing her dress. He settled for sitting behind her and kissing her back. That was distracting, but she yanked her dress on over her head.

“Hungry?” she asked.

“No. I drank some of your energy while you were sleeping.”

“What?” She stared at him. She’d forgotten that she’d never actually seen him eat. He took food when it was offered, but he never actually ate. “I feed you?”

He nodded happily. “I live off the energy inside you. It’s the only kind I can use.”

She blinked. The stories did say that sylphs fed off their masters. “How often do you do that?” she asked.

“Once or twice a day. You never notice.”

Apparently not. “What did you do back home?”

“Ate the energy the food sylphs made. Yours tastes better.” He stood and grabbed the new shirt and pants he’d been given, managing to get them on before adding a pair of boots too big for him. Collecting her cloak, Solie ducked outside with him.

It was bitterly cold from the frigid wind that never seemed to stop blowing with extra force across the flat top of the bluff. Men kept their heads down as they went on their way, and Solie didn’t see any of the youngsters she’d worked with the past few days. It was well past dawn, but no one had woken them. Or rather, no one had woken her, since Heyou didn’t sleep. She looked around and stopped.

A few dozen feet off, the Widow Blackwell was arguing with Morgal while Devon watched, and the woman pointed frequently at Solie’s tent. Solie blushed and jumped with a squeal when Heyou walked up behind her and started licking her neck.

“Behave!” she hissed. The last thing she needed was for the widow to see his action. She didn’t want to imagine what the woman was going to say about last night, and she cringed as the widow stared balefully in her direction. Rather than coming over though, the woman threw her hands up and stomped in the other direction.

The two men started toward her. Solie swallowed nervously. Heyou growled.

“Don’t!” she hissed in an undertone. “They’re not going to hurt me!” Yell, maybe, lecture, probably. Make her feel like crap, definitely. “Be nice,” she added.

“Yes, my queen.” He sighed.

The two men approached, Morgal regarding her flatly, while Devon never made eye contact. He was afraid, she realized—not of her, but of Heyou. Morgal was uncertain, but fear was in him as well. Both men were focused on her, though, hoping she could give them the answers they wanted.

Solie blinked in surprise. The emotions they felt were faint but undeniable. They’d had to get within ten feet before she felt anything, but now it was clear and disconcerting. She shot a look at Heyou. She could feel him, and she’d felt all the other sylphs last night. Was she going to be able to feel everyone now?

He grinned at her.

“Solie,” Devon spoke up, still not meeting her eyes. “Heyou. How are you this morning?”

“Okay,” Solie replied, feeling Heyou’s interest in the exchange. He didn’t hate Devon; Solie could feel it. He’d gone through too much to hate so easily anymore. That was good to know.

Devon couldn’t tell that he wasn’t in danger, though, and his fear stayed sharp. “Good. Good! Ah, Solie. I should have talked to you first, but last night…last night I told Morgal that Heyou was a battle sylph. He wants proof.”

Would they be asked to leave? Solie blinked and glanced at Heyou. She bit her lip and met his blue-gray gaze. “Can you show them? Um, without freaking everyone out?”

Heyou frowned and closed his eyes. When he reopened them, they glowed red. A tiny trickle of hatred issued forth, and both human men stepped back. Then it was gone. After another blink, Heyou’s eyes returned to normal.

Devon choked, turning to Morgal. “Convinced?”

The other man nodded, his face pale. “What do you want here?” he asked Heyou.

Heyou scratched his head, puzzled by the question. “To protect and serve my queen. What else is there?”

Morgal pursed his lips. “If you stay here, will you protect the Community?”

“Well, yeah, this is where she is. Why wouldn’t I?”

Both men relaxed a bit. Solie watched them uncertainly, but she felt that they felt content—or at least unwilling to push for more. She hadn’t ever encountered anything like it. Usually people were telling her what to do.

Get used to it,
Heyou told her silently.
No one tells the queen what to do.

Solie shuddered, not sure why that made her nervous.

Soon. Soon he’d be with his queen.

Mace strode quickly across the plain, ignoring the obvious trail of ridged earth as he went in a direct line toward his queen, zeroing in on her without pause. He’d be able to feel her anywhere, just as he could feel everyone in his hive line. That line had become much larger since the queen had ascended and subsumed so many other sylphs. It was glorious.

Mace could sense the queen’s battler as well, the youngster he’d sensed dying and had been unable to help. The child had done well indeed. Mace had no urge to challenge him for supremacy. Battlers didn’t do that inside their hives. It was the queen’s choice whom she let have her, and most battlers never did. It was the touch of her soul that was important, and they were all hatched with the need to protect and serve her. None of them had thought they’d lose that bond when they crossed the gate, but they had. Mace had never expected to find a new bond in this world at all.

Ril sent him an almost communication of curiosity about what had him so excited. Back home, they never would have interacted except to fight, being from different hive
lines as they were. But Ril had no queen at all. He’d been too far away to be subsumed when this new one arose. Mace’s new queen could accept him, though. Ril could be pulled in just like any sylph from a conquered hive. Those that survived were always subsumed by the victorious queen, brought into the hive line. The queen could subsume Ril now. He could become a friend for real, instead of the almost friend he’d been since they met, neither sylph having anyone else. One battler wasn’t enough to protect a queen and ensure her comfort sufficiently. Three would be far better.

He had no real way to tell Ril, though. They could feel each other’s emotions, but it was hard to share without their masters also feeling them, and their instincts still told them not to trust each other. That would end when the queen had them both. Then all things would be possible.

Mace would have run if he’d been allowed. Instead he had to settle for a rapid walk, giving Ril an expression of happiness to come that the other battler didn’t understand. Mace almost had to laugh, especially as the miles passed by, the hive growing ever closer.