The Battle Sylph (29 page)

Leaving the dying battler, Yanda galloped toward the cliff, muscles bunching under smooth skin and golden fur. No real conscious thought went through his mind. He had his orders, and attacking other hives was what he had been hatched to do—and all of that had been replaced long ago by madness. The only thing he wanted to do now was kill, and he didn’t even feel the deep wounds he’d suffered or how they slowed him down.

The bluff rose ahead, a stronghold reeking of both terror and determination. He wanted to destroy the inhabitants. Dotting the face of the cliff were the dark squares of windows, and while none were low enough to be of any use to a human attacker, Yanda increased his speed, gathering himself and leaping for the nearest, nearly forty feet up. Lashing out with energy, he blasted the window and much of the rock inward.

Landing on the stone floor inside, he skidded across a woven grass carpet into a rope bed and the wall. A water sylph was there, set to watch the window just in case. She screamed in fright and dissolved her form, raining onto the floor and flowing toward the doorway. Yanda pushed himself up and dug his claws into the puddle, cutting into the mantle of energy from which she was truly made. Like the battler outside, she screamed as he tore her apart, ripping her into shreds too small to hold consciousness or life.

Her death smelled sweet. Yanda lapped his tongue across it, savoring the taste even though he couldn’t take any
nourishment. He purred, but he could sense other life nearby, a few even from his original hive. That didn’t matter. He’d kill them all.

He padded out into the passageway, which was dark but full of sound and smells. Another sylph was fleeing down it, racing away from another window. Yanda bounded forward in pursuit, catching her only a few feet farther on. She was an earth sylph, tougher than the first but still helpless against him. She tried to protect herself and he killed her anyway.

There was more life farther ahead, a lot of it grouped together. He sniffed the air, searching the passageways, but where he was now didn’t connect directly with the appropriate chamber. He sniffed one stone wall, sure they were just on the other side, milling about and whimpering, and backed up.

The wall erupted inward. In the eating area, men and women screamed, trying to flee the exploding inner wall, many injured or helping others. Yanda dove in and roared, landing in a crouch, flashing his hatred at them. They screamed even more, which excited him, and he leaped for the closest, intending to rip every person present to bloody chunks.

Hysterical air and fire sylphs tried to knock him off his path, but he ignored them; they all looked like children and they were weak. Then a boy slammed into his side, fingers that were suddenly claws biting into the wounds Yanda had already suffered, and he roared as he was scourged by the hatred of another battler who’d hidden himself among the sylphs, using them to camouflage his attack.

It was unthinkable. No battler attacked from ambush! Yanda screamed in outrage, lashing out as the two of them tumbled across the floor, crashing through fleeing humans. Locked together with him, the boy changed into something
barbed and clawed, with many mouths. Pain lanced through the cat and he struck out with his energy, only to find it blocked by his enemy.

The strength of the shield was enough to show he was fighting another inferior battler, though this one was not weak but young. Yanda howled gleefully and threw himself into the fight. He’d been attacked by infants before. This one shouldn’t take very long to kill.

Mace dropped toward the ground, tangled so effectively with the two other battlers that he couldn’t break free to fight. For a moment, neither could either of his foes, and in a strange form of mutual agreement they broke apart just before impact. Still in his natural form, Mace shot to one side, arcing up above as the other two landed, the spider neatly on the dozen legs he’d formed, the cloaked, clawed thing in a low crouch farther down the slope.

For a split second it was a standoff, the spider hissing as it turned, legs shifting the bulbous body delicately toward Mace, putting his back to his partner. Mace stayed where he was, watching and assessing, ready to move in an instant or change his shape. Unlike Ril, he was fresh and rested, older by far than either of his combatants. The cat might have given him problems, but these two were young enough they’d need to take him together.

Apparently they knew it. The spider worked his mandibles furiously, dropping his body low to the ground and letting the other battler move up beside him. They weren’t of the same hive—Mace could tell that easily—but they were under orders to work together. All the battlers were under orders to do so when necessary, as he’d worked with Ril to attack the Community before they became hive mates. The spider gave a hissing chuckle, expecting that cooperation now. They could kill him if they worked together.

That didn’t happen. The second battler moved up beside
the first, his round mouth wide and the massive tangle of fangs flaring outward. He stepped close to Poison and turned in one motion, slashing the spider across the abdomen with his claws. The spider screamed, hurtling to the side and tumbling over, legs thrashing. Immediately, Claw was after him, as was Mace, changing into the heavy armor form he’d worn for so long and landing on the spider’s stomach, driving his feet into that softer body. He punched downward, tearing through the battler’s mantle. Claw slashed at the spider again. All of them were screaming, hate rising and power lashing everywhere, the spider’s flaring indiscriminately, his killers’s blasts focused very deliberately.

Mace’s power speared deep, tearing into Poison. It rebounded, throwing both him and Claw back. They caught themselves and crouched to attack again, watching, but it wasn’t necessary. Poison made a confused sound, shuddering with his belly gone and his legs curled up over him. His many eyes flared and died. A moment later his body started to break apart, the bits of him falling away and dispersing, crumbling to less than dust and reeking of ozone.

Mace straightened, looking dispassionately at the last specks of the dead battler before turning to the other. Claw stared back with an equal lack of expression, but his emotions were exalted. They were patterned exactly like Mace’s—which was no surprise, given how he originally came from the same hive and now belonged to the same queen.

One of the children had been hit by a chunk of flying rock. The toddler screamed despite the fierce battle that raged past her and out through another corridor. Blood poured into her eyes, blinding her and driving her mother nearly to hysteria. Nowhere seemed safe. Explosions and screams from the two struggling battlers echoed up through the corridor,
and the hive itself shook, hate pouring out so strongly that the humans could only cower in panic. If the lion sylph returned, there was little they could do.

Gently, Luck reached out a hand and laid it on the wounded girl’s forehead, focusing. Immediately the wound closed and the girl stopped crying, blinking up at the healer in confusion. Luck turned away, paying her no more mind. She didn’t have time. The wounds in this room were all healed now, and she focused, searching for more pain, more injuries to mend. There were many in the hive, men hurt and bleeding from their melees with the incoming soldiers. She couldn’t really distinguish between those of the hive and the attackers, though. Back home, it was easy. Here, it wasn’t so simple.

She looked at her terrified master, who was cowering under a table and sobbing. She loved him, but he wouldn’t be any help in this. She reached out anyway, touching him and repairing a bit more that thing inside him that couldn’t be healed, the hypochondria that had so fascinated her and drawn her away from the wounded battler she’d left her hive to heal. That had been her one moment of freedom, rare indeed. Now she had so much. Before, she’d only left the hive if a sylph was hurt too badly to return but not so badly that the queen abandoned them. Now she could leave anytime she wanted, if she wanted. The knowledge of that was usually enough.

She ached to heal, but she didn’t know where to start. She couldn’t heal the enemy, but she didn’t know who the enemy was. None of the humans smelled like hive. The only hive injury she could sense was…

Luck stared out the jagged hole blown in the side wall. It was already being closed by a trio of earth sylphs, while others sealed the passage the battlers had gone down. It was a pathetic gesture, but they had to act, just as she did. To be true to their purpose.

A battler was down, wounded and dying somewhere beyond that hole. Luck knew he was of the hive. Her first instinct was to heal the hive defenders inside, but he was hurt so badly. She could tell he was far gone, farther than she could fully heal, and even if she saved him he’d never be the same, never again be able to serve in the way he was needed. Back home, she’d either leave him to die or help him relax and let his energy bleed out to speed his death. But as she glanced at the queen, crouched under another table with a weeping girl in her arms, Luck remembered the order that no one was to die. The battlers had been given exemption, but not her.

Slowly Luck drifted away from her master, wanting to take him with her but not wanting to put him in danger. He wouldn’t be of use anyway. Zem saw her going and screamed, but she was used to ignoring him when instinct was stronger. Picking up speed, she flitted through the hole in the wall before it closed, and raced down the passage on the outside. Barely slowing as she passed the bodies of two sylphs—both were dead—she continued on, flying out the broken window Yanda had entered.

The conflict between Mace and the two other battlers she ignored. Two were of the hive, one was not, so she knew who would win, and she knew the two would protect her from the other. She found Ril lying on a slope of shale, half buried in snow and leaning against a boulder. He’d shifted into the form of an egg in a last attempt to contain the energy pouring out of him. Luck shuddered, feeling how much of him was simply gone, and didn’t know if she could help. The queen’s order was absolute, though: no one was to die. In her heart, she reveled in the simplicity of that and wrapped herself around Ril, glowing.

She healed him, taking the torn edge of his mantle and sealing it, reflowing the energy he’d contained back into him. He’d lost so much, though, his pattern broken and crippled.
She eased him back into the human shape he’d adopted, not sure he’d ever be able to shift form again, and continued her work, close to exhausting herself once more as she struggled to bring him back. Arms and legs akimbo, Ril sprawled under her, his head down lower on the slope than his feet, and she lay along him like a lover, her arms wrapping him in an embrace.

So much was gone, so much lost. But she brought him back to wholeness in form, if not in soul, and rested her own barely corporeal head on his chest, sighing. She’d healed him, true to instinct and order…and felt him shiver from the cold as no battler ever should. She’d saved him, and it would be up to him to decide if he’d ever be able to forgive her.

Embracing him again, she hauled him up, carrying him back with her to the light and warmth of the hive.

Heyou squealed as he and Yanda rolled across the huge room, scattering people and angling by some miracle down a passageway on the other side. This battler was older than Ril or even Mace, and Heyou tried not to panic as he remembered what Ril had done to him before—and that Ril was likely dead now from trying to fight this thing.

At least the cat was injured. Heyou dug his claws into those existing wounds and pushed, trying to cause as much damage as possible. That earned him a bite near his eyes, and Heyou shrieked, blasting him in the face. Yanda actually laughed at that, and bit harder, swinging his head to one side and throwing Heyou against the wall. He slammed into it and nearly lost his form, forced to take solid shape just to keep himself from shattering. With a wince he dropped to his hands and knees, wearing the boy form that Solie liked, and Yanda grinned evilly at him, tongue hanging out of his mouth.

Solie…, Heyou thought desperately. If he lost she’d be
killed, along with Galway and Devon and everyone else. He couldn’t just fight this battler, though. He wasn’t strong enough. Not unless he waited a few more centuries, and that hadn’t helped Ril any. His only real hope was to lead him to Mace—and Mace was busy enough himself.

He also doubted Yanda was that stupid. The cat hunched down and stalked slowly toward him, tail twitching and green eyes glowing. Heyou struggled to his feet and backed away, looking for anything he could use to defend himself.

There was nothing, so he hit the cat with his hate instead, screaming. Yanda matched that scream and returned his own shriek, along with a blast of energy Heyou only blocked by instinct. Propelled backward, he somersaulted down the corridor and crashed to a halt at a T junction. Taking a chance, he scrambled down a side passage, the few water sylphs who’d been hiding there fleeing ahead of him, trailing water. Yanda burst around the corner a moment later, still laughing.

He couldn’t keep this up. Running at full speed, the other battler just behind, Heyou breathed a prayer to his queen, gathered himself, and changed. He went to smoke and shot up to the ceiling, condensing just enough that the other battler skidded underneath, slipping on the wet floor.

Dropping back, Heyou fell onto the cat and dug in with every claw he could form while screaming his antipathy, blasting waves of energy downward with everything he had. Yanda shrieked and threw himself straight up, smashing them both against the ceiling before flashing out with his own energy, rocking the hive with it and flattening Heyou against him. Frantic, the young battler dug deeper, fighting to hang on and knowing that the instant he let go he was dead. Yanda kept bucking, hurling them against every surface he could and bombarding him with energy.

In agony, Heyou felt his grip start to slip.

Mace left Claw behind as he flew up to King Alcor’s air ship, the huge vessel retreating with growing desperation and speed. The air sylph was all that held it aloft; the craft canted heavily to one side, and that side’s masts were so badly broken, the sails dragged against the ground and dug a trail in the snow.