The Sylph Hunter (3 page)

There were close to forty hovels just outside the city, built by the lee of a massive boulder where the winds weren’t so bad. The hovels themselves were made of stone or whatever other materials they could find, all inhabited by people who were living on the edge of starvation, even in what was supposed to be Meridal’s new golden age.

Leon Petrule had told them things would change with a human woman as queen of the sylphs. Zalia certainly didn’t blame him for being wrong, but he’d left and nothing was really different. At least, not for her and her father, or any of their neighbors, and what had changed didn’t seem to be for the better for anyone.

Zalia made her way through the darkness and climbed over the crumbling wall that marked the edge of the city itself. From there, she started down the narrow streets that would take her to its heart, going past tall, narrow buildings jammed in like too many teeth crowded into a mouth. Some were abandoned, surely had to be abandoned with all the people the battlers killed in the last weeks, but no one was really sure who owned what. There were people who had laid claim to entire neighborhoods, and if they had a sylph, the battlers took their word as truth. Those who didn’t have a sylph were entitled to nothing. So no one lived in most of the houses and she and her father still had to scrape a living, surviving in the hovels that no one else wanted. It was a cruel thing, but she’d grown used to cruelty in her life.

Her arms wrapped around herself, Zalia trotted down the roads, trying to keep warm. Her shift started at daybreak and if she were late, there were hundreds of other hungry women who’d be willing to take her place for the few pennies she made. It was barely enough to buy food and water with, but it was better than the alternative. She couldn’t arrive like this though. Presentable as her dress might have been, the rest of her wasn’t.

She came at last to an extensive series of stables that had once housed the finest steeds in the city. Now the animals stood listlessly in their paddocks and stalls, tossing their tails at flies. All of them were looking thin from lack of proper care, though the sylphs were trying. There was no telling where most of their human tenders had gone, as hundreds of humans had abandoned the city in the first weeks after the queen’s ascension, preferring the familiarity of human rule offered in other cities.

Zalia darted behind one of the stables. There was a barrel of tepid water there, good enough to drink and certainly decent enough to bathe in. Glancing around quickly, she filled her water bag and then pulled a bar of fatty soap out of her pocket and stripped her dress over her head, laying it carefully over a fence. Rapists she didn’t worry about, not in a city of battlers, but if there were any supervisors left at the stable and they sent her away, she wouldn’t have anywhere to bathe. That would cost her her job and her father only worked consistently during the fall slaughtering of the livestock. There was no guarantee that would even happen this year either, given how things were going.

She bathed as quickly as she could, rubbing wet soap over her body and gasping at how cold it was. The sun was still down and she jumped up and down to keep warm, her teeth chattering furiously. Her hair at least was good enough for her to get away with just a thorough brushing. The days she had to wash it were truly hellish. Splashing the water over herself, she gasped again, shuddering violently.

“Pretty,” a voice said.

Zalia spun with a shriek, her hands up to cover herself. Standing by the side of the stable was a tall, muscular man dressed in a white shirt and pants that went to his knees. He was barefoot and he smiled at her, his teeth gleaming white in the darkness.

“Very pretty,” he told her.

Zalia jumped for her dress, dropping the soap. She grabbed it up, but he caught her, his hand closing around her wrist as his warmth pressed against her cold back. “Don’t,” he purred. “I like you bare.”

Zalia screamed, shoving back against him as hard as she could. He was much stronger than her and his nose pressed against the side of her neck, sniffing. Where were the battlers? she thought in a panic. Even before everything changed, they would tear rapists apart.

There were no battlers in sight though, and something was happening to her. Zalia’s cold body was becoming very warm where he blanketed her, his arm sliding around her. She clung to the fence with her fingers, frightened and not understanding, but she was becoming very aroused, almost painfully so. The arm he had around her slid up to cup her breast and she cried out softly, the shock of his touch arching through her entire body and down to her toes. He nibbled on her ear and she shuddered, the place between her legs tingling with need.

What was wrong with her? She’d never been with any man in her life, but here she was nude with a stranger, just standing there while he adjusted himself, preparing to take her against an old stable fence where anyone might come and see. She couldn’t seem to get enough air and lust had swamped her brain.

Her attacker sighed happily, shifting behind her, and she felt something that was strong as steel but coated with velvet press against her. She almost wanted to let him, her belly screaming that she allow it to happen. One push and it would be done, but a tear trickled down her cheek from the eyes she squeezed shut.

“Don’t,” she whispered.

He hesitated, stopping against her. “What?”

“Don’t,” she repeated. “Please let me go.”

“But,” he protested. “You want it.”

No, she didn’t. This wasn’t real, it couldn’t be real. “No. Please!”

He huffed, sounding more confused and disappointed than angry, and stepped back, releasing her. At the same time, the lust that had been all but consuming her vanished and she was left shivering and sick to her stomach. Grabbing her waterskins and the dress, close to tearing the cloth as she yanked it over her head, Zalia ran, looking back fearfully over her shoulder while she did.

He still stood where he’d been left, staring morosely after her. His shirt had pulled mostly open and his pants were undone, showing the part of him that had nearly taken what she hadn’t been prepared to give. Yet it was the sight of the tattoo branded on the dark skin over his heart that made her gasp.
111
. It was the marker brand of a battle sylph. A battle sylph had nearly taken her for his lover and what would have happened to her then?

Zalia ran on, afraid to look back again.

One-Eleven, since he hadn’t thought of a name for himself yet and had the romantic notion that his new master would choose it for him, watched her go. She’d been so beautiful when he saw her from above, bathing in the water with her lovely breasts bouncing, the dawn’s light glimmering off the beads of water on her nipples.

It hadn’t occurred to him that she might not want to make love with him. The women in the harem had always been willing and they were the only women he really had experience with.

Since the queen rose, everything had become confusing. There were close to seven hundred battle sylphs in the kingdom, but only a hundred concubines. None of them were available anymore. Most had already been bound as masters to battlers and, to his amazement, some had chosen not to have a battle sylph at all. They had all left the kingdom, not that he understood why. One-Eleven had been spending weeks trying to find a female master among the women in the city who made his heart sing.

It hadn’t been as easy as he’d expected. His old orders had told him to leave women alone unless they were concubines. It hadn’t occurred to him during those years that other women wouldn’t be interested. Now they seemed to think he was some kind of monster and the idea of making love with him was repugnant to them. Empathic, he could feel it, and it hurt.

Finally though, he’d found this lovely creature. Seeing her nude and unafraid, he’d thought that she was different from the other women, more open with her love like the concubines. He’d gone to greet her and she’d turned away. Almost though, almost he’d had her.

It was too much to give up on. One-Eleven straightened his clothing and frowned, looking through the darkness in the direction she’d gone. He had her pattern now; if he got close enough, he could find her again. He’d convince her to be his master, he decided. She was frightened of him? He’d change that. He’d find a way to make her love him, and then everything would be perfect.

CHAPTER TWO

T
he
Racing Dawn
dropped gently toward its cradle in the biggest harbor Devon had ever seen. He’d heard how big Meridal’s harbor was, but the reality was almost unbelievable. Wharfs that stretched out a mile or more into deep blue waters had oceangoing vessels of all kinds docked at them. Hundreds of people went back and forth along them, working around numerous piles of stacked goods. Devon’s ship passed over all of them, and the young man looked nervously over the side while it did. Even more impressive than the wharves was the huge city that sat on the edge of the shore, framed by beige sand that seemed to go on forever.

“It’s unbelievable,” he murmured, feeling intimidated and utterly out of his depth.

I thought you were afraid of heights,
Airi said to him.

“Don’t remind me.” He blew out a breath and watched the ship lower to the ground, settling into a wooden cradle beside the pier. It was close enough to the oceangoing ships to make moving cargo easier, but still above the waterline. The feel of the ship stopping sent a shock through his legs and Devon staggered a bit, grabbing the railing for balance.

We’re here,
Airi said.

So they were. Devon looked out over the city that he’d come to as Solie’s ambassador. Just within the area around the ship’s cradle, he could see a marketplace fifty times larger than the square in the Valley and streets flanked with tan buildings that led to an immense wall encircling the city. Beyond it, the city itself rose, tall buildings stepping back into the hazy distance. Looking at the far horizon, Devon wasn’t sure when the land gave itself up to the sky. He’d never seen such a massive city before. The heat, once the ship’s air sylph dropped her shields, was immense.

When Leon had briefed him on Meridal, he’d described how large the city was. Devon just hadn’t been able to appreciate what he’d heard until he saw it for himself. The older man had also told him that the streets were crammed with people, so much so that it was hard to go anywhere without bumping into someone.

That part of the description didn’t match. The harbor was indeed filled with ships and their crews, but the streets themselves were next to empty, with only a few dozen people that he could see. The men coming up from the wharves seemed confused, as if they were expecting the thronging crowds Leon had talked about as well.

Devon started looking more closely at the buildings at that point. There were a lot of them, yes, but when he paid attention, he could see they were worn down and in poor repair, their colors and edges dulled by sand and neglect. There were holes in the street as well, none patched, and garbage in every gutter. Animal waste was left to bake in the sun and lent to the overwhelming stink of poverty.

“It’s a slum,” he murmured.

The chancellor did say that most of the wealth had been kept by the nobles on a floating island,
Airi said uncertainly.

“Yes…” He searched the skies for it, though of course, Leon had told him about the hundreds of battlers who bore the floating island out into the ocean and dropped it into the waters, along with the entire ruling class of the city. The only thing Devon saw in the sky now was what might have been a tiny floating building, though it was so far away it was hard to tell.

Kadmiel, the master to the air sylph who brought them, wandered up as the rest of the crew disembarked and headed toward the city. The captain looked as if he’d glued a wildly overgrown thicket to his face and head, and his skin was so wrinkled it resembled a dried-out riverbed. He looked angry as well, his brows just as thick as his hair and drawn together, but Devon had learned over the days they spent traveling that Kadmiel was actually a very quiet man, spending most of his time sitting with his air sylph and watching the waves pass. He had been what Leon called a feeder, but with the queen’s ascension, he’d been freed and Ocean Breeze chose to stay with him. Devon figured that said a lot about the man and he nodded respectfully as Kadmiel stopped beside him, though Airi playing with his hair probably ruined the effect.

“Are you going to meet anyone?” Kadmiel asked.

Devon felt his heart sink. Wasn’t he? He didn’t actually know what was supposed to happen when he arrived. Vague visions during the travel of parades of well-wishers and a carriage made of gold were obviously wrong, but he’d thought there would at least be someone. He looked at the nearly empty streets nervously, not sure what to do. Not even the arrival of Airi in a foreign hive seemed to have attracted any attention.

“No one’s coming?” Kadmiel asked.

“I don’t know,” Devon whispered. He gripped the railing so tightly his fingers turned white. “I’m supposed to be an ambassador.” It sounded so stupid saying it. He wasn’t anything.

“Oh.” Kadmiel thought for a moment. “I was just told to take the others back and bring you.” He turned and looked back toward the stern of the ship for a long moment. “I asked Ocean Breeze to tell them you’re here.”

Devon looked at him hopefully. “Then they’re coming?”

“I don’t think so.”

Devon sagged. Now what were they going to do? He was supposed to be here in Leon’s place, helping Queen Eapha learn how to rule her kingdom. He could guarantee that if it were
Leon
arriving, there would be someone waiting for him, and if not, Leon would march straight into that city and find them.

Maybe we should do that,
Airi suggested.

Devon blinked. “What? How?”

Kadmiel looked at him in puzzlement and then up at his wildly waving hair. Shrugging, he went back to Ocean Breeze, and Devon sagged. “I don’t want to go in there if they don’t want me.” He wasn’t a brave man. To just walk in was terrifying.

We can’t go back either,
she pointed out.
What other choice do we have?

Devon sagged even more. She was right. There was a battle sylph back in the Valley who’d made it abundantly clear that he’d take it as a personal favor if Devon never set foot in the same kingdom as him again. It wasn’t as though he had much to go back to anyway. His father had passed away a few years after Devon moved to the Valley and he was single, though he was going to be a father. He shoved that thought away abruptly. The fact that he
wasn’t
going to be the father had also been made clear to him. He wasn’t certain how he felt about that. Sure, he liked Solie, but not enough to be a parent with her. Especially not with a battle sylph already determined to do the job himself.

“I guess it couldn’t hurt,” he admitted at last.

The
Racing Dawn
had no plans to go anywhere. In fact, Kadmiel seemed to not have any more direction than Devon, though he was content to merely sit and wait. After being in a cage for years, Devon supposed, it had to be nirvana just to sit on the deck and watch the waves come in. He did agree to watch the bulk of Devon’s possessions, and Devon only gathered a few essentials, in case he didn’t find the queen immediately and wasn’t able to get back to the ship by nightfall.

Airi invisibly hugging his neck, Devon walked down the gangplank brought up to the side of the ship and started inland, following the wide road that led away from the harbor. The farther he went, the worse the heat got, leaving him glad of the thin shirt he wore, but regretting the long pants and boots that were common back home. Around him, the men he saw wore billowy shirts and pants that reached to their knees, with sandals on their bare feet. Resolving to get himself a set as soon as he could, he fanned himself with his hand and kept going. Airi struggled to send a cooling breeze over him, though the best she could manage was to fan his sweat. As sylphs went, she was hardly powerful, but she took the edge off and Devon made his way gradually up from the harbor and into the city itself. He thought that once he stepped into the shade of the buildings the heat would lessen, but the air didn’t move and the temperature didn’t change, though he did wonder if it was actually getting hotter.

“I think I might just hate it here already,” he remarked, and Airi started giggling.

The road continued on, straight enough that Devon didn’t worry about getting lost. The number of people grew more numerous in the city, but they didn’t turn into the crushing crowds that Leon had warned him about. That was probably a good thing, given how they stared as he passed. And that really wasn’t surprising, since next to them, Devon figured he had to look as though he’d been dipped in bleach. They stared, but the men didn’t speak to him, continuing on their own business while the women he passed ducked their heads and scurried away. That reaction was the strangest; he’d grown used to the Valley, where women had the same rights and strength of opinion as men. These women almost looked as if they were afraid he’d contaminate them.

You make them nervous,
Airi told him.
I don’t know why.

Neither did Devon. Ahead of them, the wall he’d seen from the air ship towered over everything. The road led straight through it, passing under an arch where the gate had been ripped completely away, leaving strips of jagged metal sticking outward, stretched like taffy where they’d been pulled. Devon could only think of one kind of sylph that had the strength and violence to rip metal apart like candy, and he shuddered.

He walked through the arch and into the main city. This close, he could see chunks blown out of the thick stone walls of the buildings and from the cobblestone streets. Scorch marks were everywhere, and some of the buildings he passed were gutted, the remains vaporized or blown to who knew where. There was still a fair amount of rubble in the streets, but the people made no attempt to clear it away. They just edged around and sometimes over it, ignoring the mess as completely as the garbage. In the city proper, there was more rubbish than at the harbor, and without the ocean scent to mask it, the smell was even worse.

“Why doesn’t anyone clean it up?” he wondered.

I don’t know. No one feels like they care.

How could they not care? Devon wondered. They were the ones who had to live in it. He didn’t see anyone who looked to be in charge; even in Eferem they had city guards to keep the peace. Here, there didn’t seem to be anyone, though of course, Leon had briefed him about that as well, hadn’t he? Meridal had battle sylphs.

A shadow fell across him, and Airi screamed in fear, pressing against his neck. Devon started and looked up to see a black cloud descending toward him, lightning crashing in mad silence within it. Two red eyes formed from ball lightning glared at him above a mouth of jagged, electrical teeth.

Many years before, when Devon had been a small child and Airi still belonged to his father, everyone in Eferem City had been ordered to attend an execution. Three men had been tied to stakes on the rise of a hill outside the city, and Devon had been in the front row when a battle sylph in the shape of a giant cat was set loose on them.

The creature had toyed with them at first, drawing blood with vicious swipes while the men howled. It had even freed them, cutting their bonds and playing with them more as they tried to run. It had tossed them in the air, and then just their body parts as it tore their limbs off. It ripped the men apart slowly and when it was finally done with them, it blew the entire hill to dust, leaving nothing behind.

The entire time the creature was torturing those men, Devon had been able to feel its hate, solid and unrelenting. Underneath, he could also feel its glee, and its sick pleasure.

Since that time, though intellectually he knew that not all battlers were the same, Devon had only been capable of one reaction when faced with them.

Devon’s heart pounded in terror and he bolted, running down the street with his sylph pressed close to his neck and other people running around him. Everyone was trying to get away, whipped by the hate aura from the battler that speared into all of them.

It was obvious immediately who the creature was after. Devon felt the battler coming after him, and seconds later, something tripped up his feet. He crashed to the ground, rolling over to try and get Airi behind him. She wasn’t part of the battler’s hive. She was young and small, though, not a threat. Leon had told him she’d be safe!

Devon stared up into one of the most handsome faces he’d ever seen. That was normal. Battle sylphs could shape-shift into any kind of creature, but when they were human, they were always gorgeous, their beauty a lure and a reward for any woman who saw them. Even men were caught by that attraction, and Devon felt an old resentment that he’d never be that striking.

“Don’t hurt us!” he blurted instead, one hand held out before him as though that would ward the battler off. He could turn Devon into a red mist coating the bottom of a crater if he wanted to. “We’re here from Sylph Valley, as ambassadors. We’re here to help your queen!”

Perfect hands on perfect hips, the battle sylph regarded them both. Beside him, Devon felt his air sylph shift and take on solid form, something she rarely did. Devon turned his head and saw her, in the shape of a young girl, still translucent but visible as she threw herself to the ground and cowered before the battler.

“Don’t hurt my master,” she pleaded. “I beg you!”

“Don’t hurt her!” Devon yelped, more afraid for her in that second than he was for himself. What was he even doing here? He must have gone mad to think he could do this.

The battle sylph studied them both for a long moment. The rest of the street was empty now, no one left to witness anything as the creature stepped forward and hunkered down, glaring at them both through blazing eyes. He studied them, reading their emotions and probably their souls, and finally snorted.