The Sylph Hunter (13 page)

One-Eleven frowned. “So what do I do? I really want her.”

“Get to know her. Try talking to her. Human women aren’t like queens.”

One-Eleven looked dubious, but Tooie didn’t have time to wonder if he’d actually listen instead of giving in to his instincts and just taking the woman. She’d surely enjoy it, but it was harder for them to form a real bond that way, especially with these desert women who were all so afraid of their own bodies and what they could feel. Yahe swept down, yelling for Tooie’s attention even as he shifted to human and stormed toward him, his fists clenched at his sides. Tooie didn’t need to be an empath to tell how furious the other battler was. One-Eleven took one look at him and retreated to think about his woman.

“Tooie!” Yahe bellowed. “You better do something! Bift has skipped out on his shift twice! I’ve been walking back and forth in that stupid marketplace and circling this damn city for more than a day! Kiala is going to kill me!”

That was unusual, even for Bift. Tooie frowned as the other battlers close by looked on, whispering amongst themselves. Yahe ignored them all, glaring up at the lead battler in absolute fury. Tooie didn’t blame him. He’d heard Kiala cursing about her battler standing her up not long ago. “Did you try and call him?” he asked.

“Yes! The bastard is ignoring me!”

Bift should have at least answered. He certainly should have showed up for his shift and Tooie would be talking to him about that. In fact, he’d take a few other battlers and slam the lazy creature around a few times as a reminder about duty. It was unnatural for a battle sylph to ignore the urge to guard, but it did happen from time to time.

Tooie closed his eyes. As lead battler and lover of the queen, his senses had actually grown more sensitive and he reached out to Bift, searching for the battler’s unique pattern among the thousands in the city.

He didn’t find it.

Tooie’s eyes snapped open. “Do you know where he went?” he asked, staring over Yahe’s head at the distant hills of sand beyond the city. They were as wide as the ocean and in their own way just as deadly.

“He was going to the gate,” Yahe sulked. “I wanted to take Kiala to see it.”

Tooie looked over his shoulder at the other battlers of the Circle, the secret group that hid their monogamous affairs in the harem by pretending to sleep with each other’s women. When Eapha became queen with Tooie as her lead battler, they’d become his closest confidants. Yahe was one of them, if one of the more temperamental, but the others looked back at him with the same sudden concern.

Raanan, Laik, Kadin, Ogden, Xenos, Baback, Banner, Edom, and Gaetan. All of them handsome beyond human limitations for their women’s sake. All of them with names given by those women, now that they didn’t have to be designated solely by numbers. They’d worked together to protect their women from the handlers who would have taken them away, even though they were from different hives and hated each other. They got over that hate because they’d needed to and learned to communicate when they were forbidden to speak, whether aloud or mind to mind. Turning to them instead of any of the others felt natural, especially given how their new shared hive pattern made them brothers, even beyond their shared history.

He should have answered me,
Tooie signed, making the gestures with his hands that they’d all learned years ago, taught by Baback’s lover Ulani, who’d come to the harem knowing how to sign thanks to a deaf brother. It had become their lifeline to each other and to the women they loved. Other battlers looked at them curiously, but most turned back to their own conversations while the eleven of them gathered around, even Yahe spotting the hand gestures and widening his eyes with sudden surprise.

He wouldn’t have left Meridal,
Laik signed.

Banner nodded in agreement.
Definitely not. His master would never let him, even if he thought of it. Taini would never want to leave.
None of the women who were masters to battlers would, not when it was a death sentence everywhere else. A woman in control of a battle sylph was considered an abomination in most of the world. Besides, outside Meridal, women were little better than property at the best of times. In Meridal, they were loved as dearly as the queen.

Come,
Tooie decided and changed shape, lifting off the ground as a cloud of black and lightning. The other ten members of the Circle rose with him, all of them abandoning their human forms so they could take to the sky.

It wasn’t a long trip. They arced over the city, scanning the ground for danger from pure instinct as they headed to the same small building that held the stairs Devon and his friends had used. They didn’t take the stairs to the corridor that led one way to the harem and the other to the feeder holding cells. Instead, they swept into vents in the building’s roof, bypassing the harem and the feeder chambers entirely as they flashed straight down a shaft that led deep underground, and emptied out in the corridor to the summoning chamber itself.

Tooie saw the damage immediately, the chunks taken out of the walls and floor and the destruction in the chamber itself, along with the dried pools of blood.

The eleven battle sylphs spread out, their energy patterns high and their hate spreading. To others it would cause fear, undermine courage. To them, it was reassuring as well as a warning to their enemy.

Delicately, Kadin reached down with a length of smoke to touch one of the blood pools.
This is human,
he said silently to them.

Tooie floated over to join him, as did the others. Only humans left traces of their death. When sylphs died, there was nothing but drifting sparkles and the stench of ozone, then nothing at all.

What can do this?
Edom asked.

Tooie looked toward the altar where the gate would have opened. It had been kept open for a long time, he thought. There would have been a lot of sylphs and humans here to celebrate it. Bift wouldn’t have been the only battle sylph in attendance either.

I know of only one thing that can kill a battler before he can send out a warning
, he said in grim understanding.

The Hunter woke to the sudden roaring of battle sylphs through the city. Its tentacles were tucked up underneath its body, except for the one it used to secure itself to one of the buildings, and it stretched and sighed, peaceful after its sleep.

Through the city, it could hear the battle sylphs shouting out the warning, calling out its presence to every sylph there, as well as the growing panic of the smaller sylphs. Anchored, it listened to their conversations, careful for any sign of a real threat to itself, not that there ever was. The creatures were as helpless against it here as they were in the old world. It could continue to eat with impunity, it seemed. It tucked its tentacles closer to itself. Once it had finished sleeping, at any rate.

CHAPTER EIGHT

T
he neighborhoods of the city grew progressively wealthier the farther the group progressed, the streets wider and cleaner. They started to pass more opulent homes, all of them surrounded by courtyards and tall stone walls that hid most of the buildings and anyone who might be using them. The garbage that had been strewn all over the rest of the city was less as well and there were even a few desert trees on the sidewalks, still alive in the blistering heat. They didn’t see any people, which, given the temperature, didn’t surprise Devon.

Zalia looked up as he panted and swallowed with a parched throat, and she smiled, patting his hand with her own.

“I must look like a roasted tomato,” he told her.

“You’re cute,” she disagreed and blushed, looking down.

Devon grinned at her, squeezing her hand despite the heat and his general, sweaty misery. She made him not care how his body felt in this place. She made him not think about the horrible things they were going to have to deal with. With Zalia at his side, it seemed, he could do anything.

Ahead of him, he heard Xehm exclaim. Devon looked forward again to see the road curved. As he and Zalia came around the corner, he spotted Xehm and Gel standing with Shasha before a huge wall that crossed the road and vanished between buildings to either side. He could tell it was sylph-made. It stood nearly as high as the buildings, and though it was made of stone, it was all one piece and had an organic flow to it that reminded him with a sudden pang of the sylph buildings back home. Sylphs had built almost all of Sylph Valley and the entire town had that same organic feel.

“It’s beautiful,” Zalia said.

“They always are.” Devon looked up at the top, nearly thirty feet or more above their heads. It wasn’t entirely consistent in height. There was no gate either. Devon was just wondering how far they’d have to walk to get to one when Shasha stepped forward and pressed her hand against the wall.

The stone rippled, wavering like a pool of water through which someone had swept an oar. From Shasha’s hand outward, the wall swept away, the stone bulging into a frozen wave that left an opening both wide and tall enough for all of them to pass.

“That’s amazing,” Zalia gasped.

It was, but Devon could see how tired it made Shasha. The earth sylph swayed slightly for a moment before she stomped forward, leading the way with Xehm right behind her, the old man still more than half carrying Gel.

Devon and Zalia followed, walking through the arch in the wall and looking around curiously. Shasha waited just inside, and the moment they passed, she closed the wall again, rippling the stone back down into place. That done, she looked up at the sky and the top of the wall that cut off the sky above them.

“What is it?” Zalia asked her.

The earth sylph turned those eerily beautiful ruby eyes on her. “The wall isn’t enough,” she said. “A dome would be better.” She looked upward again. “Yes. A hundred feet high and ten feet thick.” She sighed. “I like the sun though and my master is afraid of being closed in again.” She turned those eyes on them again. “I never should have taken him to the gate. I just wanted to see it and he didn’t want to be alone.”

Her voice sounded like gravel rolling in a wooden barrel. Devon frowned, feeling Airi press against his neck again. “A dome. Against the Hunter?”

“Yes. A proper hive. I’ll still miss the sun though.”

Devon and Zalia looked at each other as Shasha walked heavily away, moving after her master. What would life be like in a stone dome, he wondered, and saw the same question on Zalia’s face. Neither of them spoke it aloud and they continued after the others, still holding hands.

It was radically different on this side of the wall. The architecture didn’t change much, though it did become richer the farther they went, obviously being a neighborhood for the wealthy who hadn’t lived on the floating island the sylphs destroyed. What was different was the number of people around, as well as the number of sylphs.

They were everywhere. Even standing by the wall, Devon could see sylphs of every type and in every shape imaginable, scattered everywhere and doing, he supposed, what sylphs do. No wonder he hadn’t seen any of them anywhere else in the city. More, there were humans as well, in even greater numbers than the sylphs, though there was something wrong with many of them. Devon’s skin actually crawled as he saw how many of them were just sitting on the road or wandering aimlessly, most of them with a blank look on their faces. A few looked insane. More looked terrified.

“What’s wrong with them?” he whispered. Zalia shook her head in mute confusion, nervously pressing against his side until he put his arm around her shoulder and held her to him. Even with the heat, it felt right. She smelled good, like some kind of desert flower.

They’re feeders,
Airi told him.
A lot of them are really messed up in the head.

Devon swore softly, Zalia looking up at him in confusion. “Feeders,” he explained. They were the men and women who’d been less than slaves in Meridal when the emperor ruled. They’d been the ones living in the cages he’d seen, closed-in places so small there was barely room to stand and turn around, all of them with their tongues cut out so that there was no risk of them giving their sylphs orders. He looked ahead at Gel, who was mostly walking on his own now, though Xehm kept a reassuring hand on his shoulder. The man shuddered occasionally, though there was no way for Devon to know if that was from the horror his life had been in the cages or this latest trauma.

Zalia looked around in amazement and a bit of fear at the people they passed. Many of them stared at the newcomers, though no one approached and no one spoke. They didn’t seem to interact with each other either, or with the sylphs who moved among them. The sylphs were just as silent, though with their ability to speak mind to mind amongst themselves, there could be thousands of conversations going on and Devon would never know it. It was eerie, and terribly sad. These people were wounded in a way he couldn’t comprehend, hurt down to the core of their very souls. Kadmiel had at least been functional and mostly normal, though quiet, and Gel had been interested enough to go with Shasha to the gate. These had to be the most broken of the feeders. Devon really hoped that they were in the minority, since he didn’t want to think that there could be thousands of them wandering around in here with dead eyes.

“I didn’t know they’d stayed,” Zalia whispered. “I never saw any on the streets, so I just thought they’d left, like so many others had.”

“Where would they go?” Devon wondered. They had no possessions, no money. Many of them were wearing the shifts they must have had in the cages and not a few were completely naked. The sylphs might not even have been willing to let them go. Sylphs were loyal to their masters and they needed them, even if they only officially kept one now, which would be typical. Sylphs were also monogamous in their affections. Still, there were five human feeders for every sylph in Meridal. There were five thousand sylphs in total, leaving up to twenty-five thousand people here behind this wall, if the sylphs kept them all.

Devon felt a great wave of compassion for them, remembering what Shasha said about raising a dome. They had to protect these people. They’d been through too much to have to deal with an invisible Hunter on top of it. Not now that they had their freedom at last.

“We have to keep them safe,” he said, looking at the numb men and women walking on the street. In a doorway, one huddled against the jamb, her arms around her bony knees as she endlessly rocked back and forth, a small spark of flame dancing around her as a fire sylph tried to console her. “We can’t let them die.”

Zalia looked at him and her gaze hardened as she nodded in agreement.

We will,
Airi promised him.

“We will,” Zalia unknowingly echoed.

They just had to reach the queen and find out what she thought she was doing. These people needed more than to be left on the street, even one with a sylph wall around it. Where were the healers?

Ahead, the street continued through the expensive neighborhood. The six of them kept going, making their way through the crowds in silence themselves, Shasha leading the way, Xehm helping Gel, who was definitely recovering now that he found himself on familiar ground, and Devon following with his arm around Zalia, Airi dozing against his neck. He was sure he still stank, but Zalia didn’t seem to care at all and even here, he was happy to be with her.

She’s good for you,
Airi told him again.

Devon just smiled a bit, despite the depressing scenery. He wasn’t in the mood to argue with his sylph. Especially not when he knew she was right.

After a few blocks, they started to hear music, happy and melodious and coming from up ahead, dozens of instruments playing together enthusiastically if not terribly well. Devon and Zalia shared a look and kept going, even as Airi perked up on Devon’s shoulders. She loved any kind of music, after all.

Apparently, so did the Meridal air sylphs. They came to a large square where the street opened up and stopped. It seemed not everyone who’d been a feeder was as damaged as the poor souls who haunted the outer streets of this refuge.

Hundreds of human beings were crowded into the square, most dressed in fine silks of so many colors that it looked as though a rainbow were moving in there. Many of them were playing instruments, dozens of them banging away on makeshift drums, others playing flutes or recorders or other instruments Devon didn’t recognize. Some were even slamming rocks together, or bits of steel, and everyone without an instrument was clapping. At least, everyone who wasn’t dancing.

Men and women spun and twisted wildly, dancing together with a sensual abandon that made Zalia blush and turn her face into Devon’s shoulder until she realized whom she was doing that to. Her blush deepened even more and she hesitantly pressed her side even closer against him. Devon caught his breath, his finger gently stroking her cheek as his heart hammered inside of him.

Airi squealed against his neck.
It’s wonderful!
she cheered and suddenly left him, flashing away. Devon blinked, looking up, and narrowed his eyes, staring for a moment before he laughed.

“Look,” he told Zalia, pointing with the hand he didn’t have around her.

She looked up, squinting. “I don’t see…” Her voice trailed off. “Oh!”

There were air sylphs above the dancers, all dancing themselves and nearly invisible, as Airi preferred to be. There were so many of them though that they moved the hot air, creating a shimmer that wasn’t like any heat haze he’d ever seen before. They danced wildly to the music that the humans below were creating, twirling in ecstasy.

“It’s beautiful!” Zalia laughed in delight.

It was and Airi was up there, dancing along with them. Suddenly, Devon itched to pull out his flute.

Xehm appeared at their side, catching Devon’s arm with an expression on his face that could have been either excitement or horror. “You have to see this,” he said, not seeming to take any notice of how close his daughter and Devon were standing. He just turned and pushed his way through the dancers.

Devon and Zalia followed, having to almost force their way through the exuberant crowd in order to not lose sight of the old man. He didn’t lead them far.

They came to a fountain, the base nearly fifty feet across and filled with water that flowed up through a statue of a woman with outstretched hands and poured over again into the pool below. Devon had seen fountains in Eferem and the Valley before and didn’t think anything of it until he heard Zalia gasp in shock beside him. Then he realized: this was a desert kingdom, a place of aridity where water cost as much as wine back home. Zalia must never have seen this much unprotected fresh water in one place in her life. There wasn’t even a covering to protect it from the sun’s drying heat. A water sylph waded through the pool, her legs merging with the liquid she moved through, her blue, watery hair trailing down her back to join the flow.

People were gathered all around the fountain, making it take a while to reach the edge as they used dippers left on the rim of the basin to drink. Remembering again how thirsty he was, Devon made his way forward until he was able to get hold of a dipper and fill it, feeling as he did how cool the water was.

He held it up to Zalia first. “Help yourself,” he told her. She looked at him with wide eyes and then touched her fingertips to the underside of the ladle’s bowl, holding it steady while he brought it to her lips, and she drank, her eyes closing with pleasure.

It was the most erotic thing Devon had ever seen.

Finally, she finished and looked up at him with sparkling eyes. “Thank you,” she told him.

“You’re welcome,” he said hoarsely and drank the rest of the water in the dipper. He was sure it was all in his mind, but he could swear that it tasted better for having touched her lips.

“This is incredible,” Xehm exulted, looking around like a child while he drank from a dipper of his own. Even with the mass of people there, there seemed to be enough for all and no one tried to jostle them for space. Having all of this water available, no one seemed to worry about it and Devon remembered bitterly how much Zalia’s restaurant charged for even a single carafe.

“It is,” Devon admitted. Gel was sitting on the rim of the basin, one hand stroking the stone ripples that formed Shasha’s hair while she held a dipper for him. When he finished it, she refilled it and held it up again, dipping her fingers in and stroking them lightly across his brow before urging him to drink more.