The Battle Sylph (3 page)

Shaking, the prince walked to the altar. White-faced and trembling, he never looked at Solie. His fear had nothing
to do with killing an innocent girl, she saw, and she glared at him with terrified contempt. Still, if he didn’t look at her, he couldn’t see she had cut halfway through her bonds. Solie hoped he maintained that unthinking dismissal of her even as he swallowed, shifting both his stance and his grip on the ornate dagger he held.

A circle appeared in the air above them, a sphere of shining energy. The priests chanted, their sonorous words filling the room, and the sphere went from gray to green to red to black. From there it went to a non-color, and the prince gaped at it in amazement while Solie squealed and hurried, nicking her own fingers in her haste. The wounds hurt but the blood helped, greasing the rope even as it threatened to make her drop her knife.

A wind was blowing, whirling into the circle with a strange roaring sound. The fire sylphs darted back, leaving the circle in shadow, and Solie realized that there was something looking through that gateway, assessing them all. The prince sensed it too, and she saw his eyes widen even farther. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.

The presence looked through the gate, assessing, deciding whether to cross. Solie felt its attentions shifting, focusing…and suddenly she knew it was looking at her, nude and helpless on the altar. It saw her and wanted her, and she hacked through the last bits of rope as it appeared, huge and shadowy, not yet taking any distinct shape.

“Now!” the king shouted. “Kill her now!”

The prince started, gasping, and raised his knife. His arms trembled as he brought it up over his head. At the same time, Solie broke through her last bonds and sat upright, thrusting her tiny blade deep into his arm. The prince shrieked, dropping his knife and falling backward off the dais. Still bound at the feet, Solie yanked out her gag and looked up…straight into dark red eyes. She yelped and dropped back against the altar, hands raised in surrender.

The battler landed on the altar, bracing itself atop her, a beast formed of smoke and lightning, staring downward. She felt its emotions, its interest and its curiosity. Its eyes stared into hers, and she blushed as it slowly looked down the length of her body and then back up again. It purred, bent its head, and licked her from her navel up across her breasts and along her neck. Solie couldn’t see its tongue, but she could feel it and squealed, frightened, cold, and somehow hot at the same time.

What had the king said? Name it.

“Hey, you,” she managed, barely able to speak at all, she was so frightened. She swallowed, trying to get her tongue untied enough to ask its name, and it breathed warm air on her.

Heyou,
it repeated softly, the sound echoing in her mind.

Had she just named it? she wondered, and suddenly became aware that there was shouting. Startled, she looked away from the beast to see that the priests were backing away in terror, the soldiers moving in with real fright in their eyes, but still determined.

“Kill the girl!” the king bellowed, even as he ran up the corridor and away from them all. “Send it back, now!” The prince sat at the base of the altar, staring up at her in shock.

“Help me,” she begged the battler. “Please!”

The battler ducked its head, nuzzling her again, and then it rose up, roaring. Solie could suddenly feel its hate as it focused on the men, and half of them backed away—which didn’t do any good. Something like an arm lashed out, and a wave of destruction rippled from the altar, blowing into soldiers and priests alike and tearing them apart. Fire sylphs dove to try and protect their masters but were obliterated as well, flashing for a moment and then vanishing. Everything inside the chamber vanished except the altar, and Solie screamed, terrified.

The arm came around her, lifting her up against something warm. She felt it move, and abruptly they were flying, sweeping across the room and out the way she’d come, arching up the passageway. At the top, the king ran away, bellowing for help as the cart horses screamed and reared. Heyou growled, but the king had reached what looked like a short, slim man with a bald head and unblinking eyes. The king’s battler looked at Solie and Heyou unwaveringly, and it was Heyou that flinched back, turning away.

The creature holding Solie blew out the corridor through which she had been carted into the castle, making the stone passage suddenly fifty feet high. He swooped outside through the gap, and Solie felt the cold bite into her as he struggled for altitude, lifting them both up over the castle walls, and headed toward the dawn. Solie screamed, freezing and terrified, until black smoke wrapped around her, warming her, and then she fainted, unable to deal with any more. The battler looked down at her in concern, but she was still breathing.

Heady with her scent and his own freedom, Heyou flew on.

Heyou flew into the dawn, arcing high over farmland as he made his way toward the mountains, the girl held close. He’d never seen such a place as this, but the air currents felt familiar enough under his wings. Not quite settled on a solid form yet, he stayed in his natural shape: that of a dense cloud of black smoke streaked with flickering electricity, his eyes red spheres of ball lightning, his mouth full of teeth formed from pure energy. Wings made from the same smoke stretched out to either side of him, the tips fading to nothingness. Normally incorporeal, he still kept enough shape to carry her as he searched for somewhere safe to land. That place certainly wasn’t where the gate had been. He would have destroyed everything there if it weren’t for the need to keep the girl protected. Plus, there had been another male there. Heyou was young and untried. He could sense the other’s age and didn’t want a fight. Not with a female in his arms.

He still reeled at the wonder of it. A low-level guard for his home hive who never even saw the queen, he hadn’t known what the gate was when it appeared. He’d only investigated to ensure the safety of his queen and hive. When he saw the female on the other side, though, there had been no way to resist crossing over to her. Now she slept in his arms and
she
was his queen, or something so close it didn’t matter. He could feel her ownership of him and wanted to scream his triumph.

Instead, he flew. She was small and delicate, locked in flesh and, from the look of her, prone to the cold. He surrounded
her with his warmth and looked for a warm place to land, finally settling deep in a mountain valley southeast of the gate, where steam rose up through vents under the lakes, heating the water. It felt safe there, hot and moist, and he landed lightly on the edge of a hot spring, lowering the girl gently to the ground.

She stayed unconscious, her long hair fanning around her face, and he studied her body. He wasn’t really familiar with her shape, but he understood the concept of
female
. She smelled right to him, overwhelming, and he shimmered, taking on a form that he hoped would be pleasing to her: the male of her species. He’d seen enough of them, destroyed enough of them back at that place. Hating men, he became one, standing nude over her for a long moment before kneeling at her side, reaching with human arms to touch her soft skin.

She’d named him.
Heyou
. The sound of it echoed in his mind, binding him, but he didn’t care. To be bound, to be owned…most of his kind never were. They stayed drones, serving the queen, wanting the queen, fighting and dying for her but never touching her. Only a tiny few did, each of them named. He’d never thought he would be so lucky.

“Heyou,” he whispered. It sounded good. “Heyou.” He trailed a hand gently down, touching her lips and feeling her breath against his fingers. Down her neck, feeling the pulse and delighting in it. Down her chest, where her heart beat, and over the rounded softness of her tiny breasts, which would hold milk. He groaned deep in his throat and explored her farther. Her belly and womb, untouched, the mound of soft hair, and lower, where the source of her femininity lay.

He wanted her. He wanted her so badly he could take her right there…But she was the queen. He lived on her whim, and he would wait for her. He instead let his hand linger for a moment, learning her scent, the feel of her skin,
and the essence of her mind. It fed him, fueled him in this energy-poor land, and he let himself pattern that energy into his own mind. He would recognize her anywhere now, find her anywhere.

Finally she stirred, and he settled back on his haunches, not sure how she’d feel about his forwardness. He was ready for her, though, as her eyes fluttered and opened, looking up at him.

The girl screamed.

Heyou was so surprised that he turned to smoke, wings flaring as he spun to see what the danger was. Nothing. Just a few birds with no minds, a few insects, and an air sylph that was female but sterile. He returned to human form and twisted back to her, wondering what she was frightened of. Belatedly, he realized it was
him
.

Solie stared at the battler, so shocked she couldn’t speak. When she’d woken, she’d looked up at a man with no clothes on and panicked. He’d been very…erect, and looking down at her with an expression she had no doubt about. She’d screamed and he’d turned to smoke. Now he was in the shape of the man again, looking at her uncertainly, still nude and—she peeked down—yep, still interested. Solie looked down at herself to see she didn’t have any clothes on either and squeaked, wrapping her arms around herself.

The battler looked disappointed.

“Don’t look at me!” she gasped. “I’m naked!” He blinked and she waved at him wildly. “Turn around!” He did so, presenting his back. He didn’t look bothered by his own nudity at all, but Solie didn’t think she’d ever stop blushing. There was no clothing to get dressed in and no sign of any people at all. She looked around at the steaming springs and felt lost.

“Where are we?” she wondered aloud. The battler looked over his shoulder. She glared. He snapped his head around again.

“Away,” he said softly, his voice deep and resonant. “I don’t have the words.”

“Oh.” She bit her lip. “Just don’t look at me, okay?” She ran a hand through her tangled hair, wincing, and looked down at her still-bound ankles. Quickly, she started working on the knot. “You, you’re the battler, aren’t you?”

“Battler?”

“The battle sylph.” She clawed at the knots, but they were too tight. She couldn’t feel her feet anymore, she realized. “You came through the gate?”

“Yes. I am Heyou.”

So she
had
named him. Solie shook her head at the inadvertent joke of a name and sighed. “Um, can you help me?” He looked back at her, and she gestured at her feet while trying to keep herself covered. “I can’t get them off.”

Heyou stared at her feet and frowned. Turning completely around, he reached out with one hand, hooked a claw through the rope, and pulled. The rope shredded and Solie gasped in pain as feeling rushed back into her feet.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his eyes widening.

“My feet. They were tied too long.” She rubbed them frantically, trying to get the pins and needles to fade and very aware that the battler was still watching her. “Can you turn around again?” He did. “Um, thank you for saving my life.”

His back muscles tensed. “Why did they try to hurt you?”

“Don’t you know?”

He shook his head, his short hair shining with drops of water from the spring. She’d never liked hair that short, and he was really rather skinny, his features plain and unremarkable. For someone who could change his shape, he’d certainly picked a boring one. Then again, she’d never seen a sylph who looked so human. She wasn’t sure, but she didn’t think it was legal.

“I saw a gate,” he said. “I saw you. I came to you.”

Bait. Solie rubbed her feet harder and tried not to cry. She’d survived, that was what was important. She felt horrible, though, and so grateful to him, she was nearly sick to her stomach. “Yeah, well, I was a lure for you. They were going to kill me and make you the slave of the prince.”

His head swung around, his form shimmering and a look of such horror and rage on his face that she cringed.

“What?” he screeched, his voice suddenly so highpitched that she had to giggle, her fear gone. He’d saved her life, she reminded herself. He didn’t have any reason to hurt her.

“That’s what they always do to battlers,” she told him. She paused a moment. “Why did you save me?”

Confused, he turned his head away from her again. “You’re my queen. You named me.”

She frowned. “Does that mean you’re
my
battler?”

“Yes.”

She felt giddy suddenly and wanted to giggle again. He belonged to her? She had a battler? Women weren’t supposed to have battlers. Women weren’t allowed to have any kind of sylph. “Oh, wow,” she said, and he looked back over his shoulder again. “Don’t look!” He snapped his head back.

“Why don’t you want me looking at you?” he asked plaintively.

“Because I don’t have any clothes on.” She paused, realizing he was a sylph. He probably didn’t care that she was naked. “It’s just a rule here. You can’t look at a woman when she’s naked, not unless she says you can.” She frowned. “If you’re my battler, don’t you have to do what I say?”

“If you make it an order,” he admitted. “Yes.”

She thought she had. Maybe she had to be more deliberate. “I’m ordering you not to look at anything but my face when I’m naked, understand?”

“Yes.” He turned around and sat cross-legged, staring at her face and nowhere else. His expression was calm, but his face was a little creepy, too much like the soldiers who’d kidnapped her. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with a battler,” she admitted. “You look like an ugly guy.”

“I do?”

“You didn’t notice you looked like a guy?” she asked dryly.

“I didn’t notice I was ugly.”

“Well…” She shifted. “You’re kind of skinny and your hair’s too short.”

“Oh.” Suddenly, his hair lengthened, tumbling down his back in yellow waves.

Solie squealed, delighted. “That’s wonderful! Can you change the color?”

“Of course.”

“Make it darker,” she begged, and it darkened to black. “Less dark, more brown.” He obliged, changing the hair color. “Make it straighter.”

Forgetting her nudity at least a little, since his gaze hadn’t shifted a bit since her order, she directed him in changing his shape, making his chest and shoulders broader, his legs longer, his face more angular and symmetrical. He let her, delighting in her enjoyment as she turned him into her ideal mate. He became a stunning young man only a little taller than herself, the kind she was sure even her aunt would sneak a look at in the streets, and she moved a little closer, not afraid of him anymore, as she directed him in the details. It was expected, she told herself. Sylphs looked like what their masters wanted. If she was going to have a battler, he had to look human or everyone would know what he was. There was no reason he couldn’t be someone attractive.

Someone
very
attractive. As she directed him in the specific shade of his eyes, Solie realized that she was kneeling
right in front of him, her face up close to his so that she could see the details, and she was feeling much warmer than the hot springs really should have caused. She shivered, suddenly wondering if those lips she’d had him shape tasted as good as they looked.

He inhaled deeply. “I like the way you smell.”

Solie turned beet red, covering herself even though he wasn’t looking. “Turn around!” she screeched, and he obediently did so. “Why don’t you have clothes on anyway?”

“You don’t have any.”

“That’s because they cut mine off!” She looked down at herself. “I need clothes. Can you get me some?”

“And leave you alone? No.”

Solie frowned. “Why not?”

“I have to protect you.”

From what? She looked around. “Well, I can’t stay here forever, and I need clothes. I can’t go into a town without any.”

“Why not?”

She blew out a breath, wondering what kind of place he came from that he didn’t know about something as simple as that. “People don’t go around naked. Not unless they’re…” She blushed again.

“Not unless they’re what?”

“Never you mind!” she snapped. “You have to obey me, don’t you? Well, I’m ordering you to go find me clothes! Girl clothes,” she added, “that aren’t taken off some girl! And don’t hurt anyone while you do. And don’t give yourself away as a battler!” Was anyone looking for them? she wondered in terror. She hoped not. No one knew who she was, and they certainly wouldn’t recognize Heyou now.

The battler sighed, accepting the order as he rose to his feet and shimmered, turning into black, winged smoke. He rose into the air, flying away, and Solie sat staring after him,
suddenly nervous again at being alone. She’d forgotten to tell him how soon to be back.

Heyou headed in the same general direction he’d come from, though he was careful not to return to exactly the same place. He still remembered the other male he’d seen, the other “battler,” as his queen called them, and the scent of several others. He did not want a fight. Not with them. The rest of the males he’d been able to sense in the cavern and below him when he flew were all weak things, like the ones he’d destroyed at the gate. He thought about destroying them too, but she’d told him not to hurt anyone. Besides, he could smell females around many of the males and didn’t want to risk hurting them. They weren’t part of his hive, but females were inviolate. The males could quite happily die, for all he cared.

Heyou landed outside a small hamlet on the edge of a forest. Shifting back to his human form, he strode in, sure he wouldn’t be recognized as a battler. A girl came out of a hut and saw him, and he was simply smiling at her when she screamed and ran back inside. A man came out a moment later, blinking. His face showed shock, and he grabbed a pitchfork from beside the hut.

“Get out of here!” he yelled. “Freak!”

Heyou looked down at himself. He still looked human. Glaring at the man, he felt the loathing inside himself, the blinding hatred for any male not of his hive. It boiled inside, reaching out, and the man blanched as he felt it. A woman stepped out of the hut behind the man, and Heyou’s hate was tempered immediately with interest and his queen’s order to be discreet. This woman had children. She smelled wonderful.

“I need clothes for my queen,” he told her.

“You need clothes for you,” she replied.

“Don’t talk to him!” the man hissed, and Heyou snarled. The man went white and backed up.

From the rest of the hamlet, more people started coming, the men armed with whatever farming implements they could find, the women standing back and chuckling appreciatively. Heyou delighted in the shape he’d taken and smiled winningly at the mother.

“Do you have clothes?” he asked.

She shook her head in amusement, obviously trying not to laugh. “Some old and worn ones. What happened to you? Were you robbed?”

Heyou thought about it. “Yes,” he decided.