The Sylph Hunter (25 page)

Zalia didn’t have time to catch her breath as One-Eleven rushed her down a hallway. He didn’t even give her a chance to say anything, though she doubted that was because he was afraid she’d tell him no. She doubted he even realized what he’d done to her, or what he was doing now. He was just reacting in a way he thought right, and even now she could feel his lust flowing through her again. If he wanted, he could have her again, and she despaired inside a bit as she realized it. The way he made her feel turned her inside out and left her gasping, incomplete without him, even though she’d only minutes ago been with a man who’d said he loved her and whom she loved back. Still, when One-Eleven looked back over his shoulder at her, grinning so happily, her heart clenched, her wrist aching where he held it too tightly.

He towed her into a room made opulent with rich woods and silk cushions, tall windows filling the far wall and letting in the light, even as they showed a lethal drop down to the hive below. She was back in the floating palace, she realized in surprise. This was where Devon needed to be, negotiating with the queen to save them all.

The realization of that shocked away the lust building in her. There were more people in the room this time; women and sylphs both, since she doubted the men she saw were actually human. Zalia looked at the battler standing beside Eapha. He had his hand on her shoulder and was massaging her muscles.

Sylphs of every variety were bringing human women before the queen. Eapha didn’t do anything and Zalia didn’t see anything happening, but the battler beside her looked very focused, his hand never leaving his lover’s shoulder, and after a moment the women would start or cry out, suddenly turning to the sylphs beside them with shock or amazement. None of them looked as if they really understood what was going on.

Zalia understood it. The women were being bound to the sylphs, without their understanding and therefore without their consent. They’d just been brought here and the queen wasn’t even asking them if this was what they wanted. She only stood there, her eyes troubled, while her friends gathered behind her making jokes at the newcomers’ expense.

One-Eleven looked over his shoulder at Zalia, his face flawlessly perfect and so handsome that even now her heart surged to have his attention on her. “Are you all right?” he asked. “It won’t take more than a moment, promise. And it doesn’t hurt at all.”

Zalia’s mouth went dry. She couldn’t talk to him. He turned her so inside out it was all she could manage to have pushed him away the first few times they met. Now that he’d made love to her, her body ached for him, screaming with need. He smiled and that made the feeling a hundred times worse. Her body wanted him, wanting him on her and in her, moving against her with a slow languishment that would take her to heights mere humans could never reach. He would honor her and love her, and all she had to do was let it happen, as she’d let him making love to her happen. Just hang on and ride.

The woman and sylph before her stepped away, the queen’s friends laughing at the girl’s astonishment on suddenly being bound to a floating ball of fire. Zalia found herself staring right at Eapha, who didn’t even bother to meet her eyes, looking disconnected from everything before her as she listened to her friends. Just hang on and ride.

That was exactly what this woman was doing and it was killing them all.

Before she could think about what she was doing, Zalia stepped forward and slapped Eapha right across the face.

If she’d been a man, she would have been dead in a heartbeat. Zalia realized that an instant after she struck, and almost panicked, which would have also gotten her killed. She was a woman though, she realized, and the battlers were working solely on instinct. They didn’t know how to protect their queen from a woman.

Her friends did.

“Hey!” one woman behind Eapha shouted. Zalia hadn’t been able to focus on the queen’s friends much in her last visit, but she did recognize her as one who seemed to think that everything was a joke. That only infuriated Zalia further.

“Shut up!” Zalia shouted, pointing at the angry woman. She turned back to Eapha. “Do you know what’s happening in this city because of you? Do you?”

The other woman stormed toward her, not willing to back off. Eapha was just staring, one hand to her cheek while the battler beside her stood with his hand still on her shoulder, watching Zalia and the other woman with a very calculating expression. The other battlers were frozen in shock, including One-Eleven.

“Don’t you make anything her fault!” the woman yelled. “She shouldn’t have to worry about some stinking city!”

“Then she shouldn’t have given up being a slave!”

In the sudden silence, Eapha rubbed her cheek. “Kiala,” she started to say.

“No!” Kiala snapped. “This bitch doesn’t belong here! She has no right to accuse you!”

Zalia was livid. “I have every right,” she breathed. “I was there when Leon brought her out of slavery. I was there when she gave her word she’d change things. I was there when she was made a queen and left the rest of us behind!”

Eapha turned white while Kiala sneered. “You have no right to talk to us at all. You don’t know what we went through.”

Actually, Zalia suspected she’d learned exactly what they went through with One-Eleven the other night. She didn’t want to say so, not to this angry woman, not when she was so angry herself. One-Eleven stared at her, his eyes huge and his mouth hanging open, more like a startled little boy than the battle sylph he actually was. For once, he wasn’t affecting what she felt, too shocked to do so. He continued to hold her arm, probably without thinking.

She turned back to Eapha, who still had a hand to her cheek. The battler with her continued to watch, his gaze on Eapha, and Zalia suddenly realized that, much as Kiala wanted her to shut up and leave them responsible for nothing, that battler wanted Zalia to say the things he apparently couldn’t.

“We warned you about the creature that’s hunting everyone in the city,” Zalia said directly to Eapha, trying without success to shake One-Eleven’s grip off her arm. He kept holding her, staring at the battler behind the queen in confusion. That one glanced back at One-Eleven once, only briefly, and his grip tightened to a burst of pain before he let go and stepped back. Zalia didn’t really notice, though she had pause to consider it later, when she thought about the madwoman she’d become and its consequences.

“We warned you about it,” she continued, “and you let them throw us out. Me? Fine, I don’t care. But you threw out the ambassador sent by the man who saved you.” Eapha flinched. “He came here to help and you ignored him.”

“So?” Kiala started, but Eapha raised a hand, her face white. Kiala looked angry at that, but the battle sylph with Eapha glared at her and she quickly shut her mouth, the other friends of the queen surrounding her and urging her away. She only backed up a few feet and the room still felt crowded with so many people and sylphs in it.

“Since then,” Zalia continued, inexorable, “the sylphs have made a hive, but not everyone’s invited. The battle sylphs have kidnapped every single woman in the entire city and brought them to the hive
without
their husbands and sons, and they’ve thrown every single man out, even the ones who are masters.” She gestured furiously at the women who were huddled behind her, all of them watching in fear. One-Eleven looked back at them as well, suddenly seeming guilty.

“Did you stop to wonder why so many people were coming to you?” she thundered. “Did you care? Did you wonder how many of them were actually
asked
if they wanted to be masters? I know I wasn’t!”

One-Eleven gasped.

“I…” Eapha managed. “I…”

“Half this city has been left to die!” Zalia shouted, tears running down her cheeks as she realized that half included her father. “And just in case they manage to avoid the Hunter, the battlers guaranteed it by taking all the food! They left us nothing!”

“I didn’t…”

“You should have!” Zalia screamed. “You’re the queen! Stop being such a coward!” She pointed at the woman’s friends. “Stop listening to them tell you you’re useless! You can’t afford to be! A
bad
queen will keep more people alive than these things!”

Everyone stared at her, standing there gasping now with tears running down her face, not knowing what to say anymore. The fury that had driven her was running out, leaving her drained and scared, wanting nothing more than to be with her father or Devon; just for someone to hold her. It was One-Eleven who sensed it and put his arms around her, warm and perfect. He didn’t fill her with his lust this time and she was grateful for that. Zalia stared at Eapha, knowing she was going to feel so ashamed of herself once the anger fully wore off, part of her already wishing she could take it all back and just have stayed silent while the queen stared back at her, face pale, eyes wide. Her friends moved toward her, cooing that Zalia was wrong, that she was just bitter and she didn’t understand them. All of them gave a dozen reasonable excuses for her to continue to do nothing, since then it meant that
they
would have to do nothing.

Eapha shrugged them off, her battler stepping between her and them once she raised her hand. She was trembling, her lips thin and tight, but she didn’t meet Zalia’s gaze with any less fear than Zalia was feeling herself.

“All right,” she whispered.

CHAPTER NINETEEN

B
y the time Devon reached the square in front of the hive, his fury had faded, replaced again by his more common-sense comprehension of how this got Zalia back into the hive just the way he’d wanted, as well as exactly what a battle sylph could do if he dared to confront him. He still kept going, his heart pounding as he prayed despite everything that he’d find Zalia outside waiting for him.

Not surprisingly, that didn’t happen. There were a great deal of men there, even more so than before. Devon had thought that more of them would be headed underground, since there wasn’t any way for them to get into the hive itself. It became obvious to him pretty quickly that none of these men had been here when he passed by the day before.

Oh, Devon,
Airi mourned.
They’re the masters. They’ve been turned out.

Devon stood and stared, belatedly recognizing several of the men he’d seen in the hive by the fountain, singing or playing music for their air sylphs to dance to. There were no air sylphs with them now, no sylphs with any of the men who stood there. Some were yelling along with the rest of the men to be let in, others looked betrayed, and many were the numb, broken things who’d wandered aimlessly or huddled in doorways.

“Devon!”

Devon turned, seeing Xehm hurrying toward him through the crowd, dragging Gel along with him. The old man looked relieved to see him.

“I was afraid I wouldn’t see you again, boy,” Xehm said, smiling ruefully as he shook Devon’s hand. “They threw us out.”

Gel looked around them in a daze, his eyes wide with fear. “Where’s Shasha?” he said. “Where is she?”

Xehm ignored his question, studying Devon. “Where’s Zalia? She’s still inside, isn’t she?”

Devon swallowed and nodded. “Yes. She’s safe.” She was, after all. Right now, there was no safer place in Meridal, and she had work to do there, no matter what he thought of her rescuer. Realizing it hurt.

We could never get her out anyway,
Airi mourned.
She loves you though. She’ll remember that.

Devon hoped that she could.

“We should go,” he told the two men. “There’s a place for us, in the underground feeder pens.”

Gel stared at him abruptly, his eyes wide. “What?” he whimpered. “There’s a monster down there. I saw it.”

“I know,” Devon soothed, kicking himself for forgetting where they had found the man. “The monster’s not there anymore and it’s a place we can go to keep safe from it. We need to tell these men about it and go now.”

“But Shasha,” Gel protested. “I can’t leave Shasha.”

“It’s all right, son,” Xehm soothed, putting an arm around the younger man. “We need to go.”

“Go where?” the former feeder asked. “Shasha is all I have. She misses me.”

Devon and Xehm looked at each other. Devon was sympathetic toward the broken man, but the space between his shoulder blades was starting to itch again. They had to go, with as many men as would come with them. He’d wonder about how he was going to feed them all later.

“Gel, Shasha isn’t coming. We have to go.”

Gel just shook his head. “She’s coming. I know she’s coming. Look.” He turned toward the hive and pointed vaguely at it, his finger aimed nowhere near the darker stone of the gateway entrance.

As if he’d somehow taken on the powers of an earth elemental and done it himself, the stone rippled and ripped wide, revealing a tunnel more than fifteen feet long.

A half-dozen fire sylphs zipped out, all of them condensed into balls of floating flame, followed by water and earth elementals in a dozen different shapes. Devon didn’t see the air elementals, but he felt the wind of their passage when they swept past him, spreading out through the crowd.

Shasha came last, stomping heavily out of the passageway despite her slight frame, her ruby eyes gleaming. Her entire stance exuded fury as she looked back at the opening she made and it closed in on itself, before any of the men could recover from their shock and try to get through. It sealed completely, with barely a mark showing from her efforts as she lumbered forward, grumbling under her breath.

Gel pulled free of Xehm and dashed toward her, skidding on his knees for the last few feet and into her arms, sobbing in his relief. Devon walked over to join them, a silent Xehm at his side. Throughout the crowd, the other elemental sylphs were finding their own masters, to the men’s shouts of joy.

Shasha looked up at Devon, his face reflected in her eyes.

“I didn’t think you were coming,” he said to her.

“I was told I could pick my master when we were freed. I haven’t changed my mind.”

Devon looked toward the hive. “I still didn’t think you were coming.”

Shasha snorted derisively. “There is no queen to stop me.”

Oh,
Airi mourned.
This is a bad place, to have no queen.

Somehow, Devon doubted Shasha meant the queen left. Eapha’s indifference was worse than that. “Why not let us into the hive?” he asked her. It still was the safest place, though with a half dozen of each type of elemental, they might just be able to guarantee their survival in the feeder pens.

Shasha looked at him again. “The battlers would stop that.”

Devon shuddered. “Right.” He looked at the hive again, breathing a silent promise, which Airi echoed, that he wouldn’t leave Zalia in there forever. When he could, he’d come for her. And he’d love her no matter what she did until he could.

“We should go,” he said yet again, this time very softly.

The men moved, Xehm standing close beside Gel as the broken man rose, though Shasha was closer still. Wiping his eyes, the former feeder stood, lifting his head though his shoulders were still hunched, and froze. Shasha shot him a sudden look, her hand gripping his arm. “Gel?” she asked.

Gel was shaking, sweat pouring down his face, and his eyes wide. He started breathing in short, shallow gasps and Devon grabbed his shoulders, suddenly terrified himself. “Gel! What is it?” Gel was staring straight past him and Devon turned, looking behind himself and fully expecting in his growing terror to see people being devoured.

All he saw were men milling about, watching the sylphs reunite with their masters and try as they had all day to decide what to do next.

Devon turned back to Gel. “What is it?”

“Where is it?” Xehm added and Devon felt real terror.

I don’t see anything,
Airi wailed, cold against his neck.
I don’t see anything!

Gel raised his hand and pointed. Devon had been expecting the man to point past him, but Gel pointed vaguely to their right instead, toward the edge of the square. Devon looked that way, seeing absolutely nothing except more men moving around.

He looked back at Gel. “I don’t see anything,” he said. Gel closed his eyes and kept pointing as a tear trickled down his cheek.

Something flickered in Devon’s peripheral vision and he looked back toward the edge of the square.

There were fewer men there.

It was one of the hardest things Devon had ever done, his terror was so strong, but he looked back at Gel, his gaze locked on the other man’s as he tried to focus on nothing except the farthest edge of his peripheral vision. Wanting to panic and run so badly he could taste it, he forced himself to breathe and waited.

Something thick and as translucent as the finest stream of water swept across the edge of the crowd—a dozen somethings, a hundred. Tentacles, some thick as a man while others were thin as hairs, dangled along the edge of the crowd, picking off men so quickly and silently none of them realized it; none save the one man who’d survived seeing it before.

I can’t see anything!
Airi shrieked.

“Oh, gods,” Devon groaned. “Oh, gods of us all!” He felt as though he was moving in slow motion, forcing himself to turn toward the Hunter. Straight on, he couldn’t see it from this far away, not really, but he could see what it was doing as the crowd thinned and those still alive started to realize something was happening. Too slowly though, too slowly, and the battle sylphs were on the other side of ten feet of solid stone.

“It’s here!” he screamed. “The Hunter is here! THERE!” He pointed toward the creature he couldn’t quite see, unfocusing his eyes so that he could see the hint of it where it touched the ground, swirling the sand left by the storm. He kept his gaze there, afraid to look up.

The men around him moved. By now they knew they were being hunted, and like Devon, they’d been using their anger to overwhelm their fear. They heard his warning and moved in all directions, staring around in every direction for what they couldn’t see.

Some of them stumbled right into it. Seen straight on, Devon gasped as they came apart, turning to a red mist that was sucked in and up so fast it was no wonder the first victims had died unremarked.

At least their deaths served to pinpoint the Hunter for the rest of them. “Run!” Devon screamed, even as men did all around him and Airi projected his voice so they could hear it even over their screams. “To the feeder pen entrance! Run!”

At last he turned and ran himself, hearing Xehm gasping at his side while Gel stumbled behind, Shasha at his side. The earth sylph was looking around in terror, not able to see even the tentacles his peripheral vision did.

Tentacles, he thought desperately. Tentacles hanging from the sky. He’d seen them before, in the clouds and in the sand, and thought they were imaginings. He’d
seen
them, and he tried very hard not to think about what he’d seen them attached to. All he could do was run, and hope it wasn’t catching up, reaching toward them with those tentacles, reaching past the shadow that stretched behind him in order to take them. He couldn’t even look back, for fear he would trip. Airi hugged his neck, sobbing.

The worst part of it was, he didn’t know the way. The Hunter was between them and the road to the feeder pens. He’d just
walked
down that road and he didn’t know how to get to the pens from here.

“This way,” Xehm gasped, tugging on his arm and heading down a side street. Devon let the old man lead, Gel bringing up the rear with Shasha’s firm grip on his wrist. Most of the men continued along the main road they’d just left, but at his shout, many followed them, wild-eyed with terror. All of them kept going, panting and sweating in the intense heat, their hearts pounding and their mouths dry, but none daring to stop.

They ran across the city, afraid at every turn and intersection, going as fast as they could through the piles of sand even as exhaustion slowed them to a walk, their legs shaking. It was only a few miles, but they couldn’t keep running the entire way, Devon told himself. They had to save something in case the Hunter found them again.

Why had he left the safety of the pens? Devon wondered wildly. Was he crazy?

Of course he wasn’t crazy. Even now, the thought of Zalia made his heart a little calmer and he was finally glad she’d been taken. She was safe; safe from death at least.

“How much farther?” he gasped.

“A mile from here if we went straight,” Xehm panted. “I’m taking back roads.”

“Good,” Devon managed. The main roads had to be better feeding grounds for the thing, so long as they didn’t get to the pens to find the Hunter floating right on top of it. He resolutely pushed that thought out of his mind and looked back at Gel. The man was in no shape for this and Shasha was carrying him, hurrying along after the rest of them. He still looked exhausted—small wonder since she had to feed from him to keep herself going.

“Thanks,” Devon managed to gasp. “We wouldn’t have escaped…without you.”

The man stared at him, his eyes wide.

Devon turned around and kept going.

They reached the pens as the sun started to go down, them and a few dozen others, including all of the sylphs that rebelled with Shasha. Left without queen, hive, or battlers to protect them, they stuck close together, trusting human eyes to keep them safe. Devon didn’t know if he could call that ironic.

His earlier thought that the Hunter would be waiting on top of the pens for them wasn’t realized. Devon didn’t know if any earlier arrivals hadn’t thought of it or were just braver than him, but there were men at the little building that formed the entrance, the last of them moving their few remaining supplies down. Devon breathed a gasping sigh of relief, but he couldn’t stop. He just kept looking around, trying to keep his vision unfocused and jumping at every trickle of sweat that slipped down past his eyes. Nothing. Thank all the gods there was nothing.

He hurried forward, the other men and sylphs following along. Airi still clung to his neck, the only cool spot on his entire body, and sobbed. In all the years he’d known her, even in the face of angry battle sylphs, he’d never seen her so frightened. He could only imagine how terrifying this was for her, and for him it was bad enough. He could at least see the thing, if only a little bit.

How could he see it? he wondered. It was much the same as looking at a heat haze, or one of the creatures that children’s stories said could only be spotted from the corner of the eye. Usually those were the sort of monsters that hid underneath beds or in closets, waiting to devour children who weren’t good. That’s certainly what this creature seemed to be, though it definitely didn’t care who it devoured. Even a human might not spot it coming until it was too late. Besides, seeing it wouldn’t stop it.