The Battle Sylph

by L. J. McDonald

  “Easy now,” he heard a voice say. “Don’t do that, you’ll spook my horse.”

  Startled, Heyou looked over his shoulder at the bearded face of the man who’d found him earlier. Almost, Heyou hit him with his hate, but he stopped himself. He felt better, but he was too weak to change shape—and, if he was honest with himself, too frightened. He didn’t know where that other battler was. He didn’t want any more fights, and Solie had told him to hide himself. Heyou swallowed hard and did as ordered.

  “Who are you?” he croaked.

  “Galway,” the man told him. “I found you dying in the woods. Figured I’d take you to the nearest town.”

  “Why?” Heyou paused to cough. “Why would you do that?”

  The man shrugged. “I’ve got a bunch of kids at home, including a son your age. Sure as hell would want someone to pick him up if they found him lost. What’s your name, boy?”

  Heyou looked away. He hated this stranger, loathed him as a matter of course, but…the man had saved him. “Heyou,” he whispered.

  “Hey you? Weird name for a boy.”

  Heyou glared. “It is not!”

  Galway shrugged. “Weird’s not so bad. It’ll do.”

  Heyou didn’t answer, staring off into the distance and sitting so stiff that his back began to hurt. He didn’t want this man touching him, didn’t want him anywhere nearby, but he was too weak to walk on his own. Whatever the motive, at least this man was taking him in the right direction. He could feel his queen moving far ahead of him and still going north. He might be able to catch her now, if this man was willing to help.

  He grimaced. The thought of asking for assistance made him ill, and he couldn’t threaten. He was too weak to change or fight, and he didn’t dare use his hate aura. He had to rely on charity.

  He closed his eyes, breathing deeply and trying to calm himself, seeking to remember Solie and that he did this for her. “Can you help me?” he asked slowly. “I need to find someone.”

  “Oh?” the man asked. “Who’s that?”

  “My qu—girl. She’s traveling north.”

  “Not much north of here, unless she’s heading to Para Dubh.” The man guided his horse around a fallen log. There was a second animal following them, Heyou saw, furs piled high on its back. “Why’d she leave you behind?”

  Heyou nearly hit him with hate. “She just did. She doesn’t know where I am.” He stretched a little, wincing at a pain in his side just so he could get a bit of distance between them. “I have to get to her. Will you help me?”

  “Well…” Galway considered while Heyou contemplated several different ways to kill him for dragging the answer out. “I got traps up north. I suppose I could take you a ways. It’s good to have company for a while.”

  Heyou looked away and didn’t speak again, humiliated but relieved. Perhaps now he could catch up to his queen.

  Devon sat beside Cal on the wagon seat, only half listening to the man ramble. Airi played with his hair while Solie slept in the back on top of the supplies, and Stria stacked blocks and played with marbles. Sometimes, to Devon’s amazement, she spoke out loud to her master, something that was forbidden in Eferem but apparently normal in this community they were seeking. He’d quietly told Airi she could speak out loud, but she still only spoke to him, and then only into his mind. There was a greater intimacy that they both appreciated, and he didn’t bring the subject up again.

  He was intrigued by this alleged community, but still too stressed to really think about it much. He had no idea if his father was okay, and the worry over that was close to driving him insane. He also didn’t know if they were being followed, and finally looked up at his air sylph, needing the truth. If they were being tracked by Leon and his battler, they’d only get these people killed.

  “Airi,” he whispered. “Go back to the village and find my father. Find out if he’s okay and if anyone’s tracking us. If you can, find out if Solie’s aunt and father are okay, too. But be careful! Don’t take any risks.”

  Okay, she answered, and was gone, sweeping away on the winds. Devon sighed and huddled deeper in his cloak, staring at the forest they were traversing. She’d be back. The distance wasn’t far for her, and she knew how to be discreet. She would be fine. He’d count the seconds until her return, though.

  He went back to looking at the scenery—not that there was much. The forest was made of pine trees and brush, the ground broken by ridges and low hills that had the road slowly climbing upward and winding. The horses labored, but they did get the cart through the hills, even if the bouncing eventually woke Solie and made Devon feel somewhat nauseous. Cal kept chattering on about his childhood.

  As the horses went around a huge boulder to find a large gap in the road, Devon said, “Um,” wondering if the man even noticed. He was rambling on about his son now, and letting the horses make their own way, not doing much more than randomly glancing at the route. The horses walked on, heading for the gap, and Devon started to pray they were smart enough to stop.

  “Stria!” Cal called suddenly, then went on with his story. In the back of the wagon, the earth sylph scooped up her marbles and put them back in the bag before hopping down off the wagon. While Devon watched, she ran past them and dove into the ground, vanishing.

  The gap suddenly filled, and the horses continued unhindered. It was actually the smoothest part of the road they’d been on so far. Devon looked behind them, and once the horses were over the break, Stria reappeared, scurrying after the wagon.

  Devon looked at Cal. “Nice trick,” he said.

  Cal beamed. “That’s why I got this job. There are places you can’t take a horse, but Stria can get me anywhere. She’s awesome.” He beamed over his shoulder at the sylph, who was settling back in the wagon and reopening her marble bag. She glanced up and smiled, her grin eerily wider than a human’s and with far too many teeth.

  Devon looked back at the road. Sylphs looked however they wanted, he reminded himself, and wondered again how his own sylph was doing.

  Airi found a wind stream high up that was going the way she wanted and floated on it, letting it carry her and do all the work. She was still a little tired, and nervous, but she was happy to be busy again. Devon hadn’t said anything, and she doubted he ever would, but she’d terrified him by saving Solie. She was still sure it had been the right decision, but it had made his life much harder and she hadn’t meant to do that. Thus, while she always obeyed him, she was acting more quickly about it this time. If he wanted her to find her old master, she would. It was the least she could do.

  She could still feel the old man, for he would always be her master, no matter whom he gave her to. She had a newer bond with Devon, but the patterns of former masters would stay with her for as long as she lived. She could ignore these, though, and when Donal Chole had given her away, she had. She’d done the same with his grandfather. She didn’t want to go back to her hive, which she would when all of her masters died, but she wanted someone to want her as more than a possession, someone who wanted her to stay with him for the entirety of his life—and who would at least ask her if she minded being handed on. She hoped Devon would do that when the time came, though she hadn’t brought the matter up.

  At least with him she could ask. He was the only one of her masters to give her permission to speak. Devon’s father had been horrified when he’d found out, and he’d never spoken to her himself. Now he’d have to.

  Airi soared down into the town, careful to watch for any other sylphs. There were none, and she hadn’t sensed any as she approached. Battlers rarely had the inclination to hide, and she could only sense the ones at the castle.

  Soaring around the ruins of the devastated town, she examined each of the people, searching until she found Devon’s father. He sat at a small table outside the bakery, his hand shaking as he drank from a mug. Donal, Airi whispered into his mind, and the old man spat a gout of cofiacross the table before looking in shock at the shimmer of atmosphere she cr
eated.

  “Airi?” he gasped, and looked around to make sure no one else saw. “Where’s my son?”

  Safe, she answered, able to speak to him in the same way she did Devon. We’re heading to a town in the north. Is anyone following us?

  Discreetly, the old man shook his head. “No. The man with the battler asked me questions, but he went back to the castle.”

  Airi shivered with both happiness and grief. The battler had to be dead after all, if they’d given up. Still, that meant Devon wasn’t in danger. Airi felt sorry for Solie, though.

  What of Solie’s aunt and father?

  “Safe, both of them.” Donal looked uncomfortable at having to speak with her.

  Thank you, she said, but Devon’s father waved his hand, obviously not wanting any more attention. Airi rose up, heading back toward her master and content that she could tell him they all were safe. He and Solie couldn’t go home, she didn’t doubt that, but no one would be searching for them. They could go to the Community after all.

  She flew back, fighting the air currents this time, but she was in no rush, and Devon wasn’t so far away—not the way she could move. She danced as she returned to him, twisting as she went to her memory of his music.

  Chapter Twelve

  Sometime before dawn, Leon went quietly down the stairs of his house, his gear thrown over his shoulder. Betha followed, carrying a lamp. She’d been pleased to see him, and he knew she was disappointed that he was leaving again so soon, but there was nothing to be done and she knew that.

  He let her walk him to the door and set his gear down while a servant hurried out to saddle his horse.

  “Come home soon,” Betha told him. “We miss you.”

  “Soon as I can,” he replied, kissing her softly, and took the lamp. “I have to get Ril.”

  Leaving her, he went quietly up the stairs to the nursery. All four girls were asleep in their beds, their breathing soft in the large room. Leon held the lamp down low and made his way to his eldest daughter’s bed. She was curled asleep on her side, Ril nesting on the pillow beside her head. The battler wasn’t asleep. He looked up at Leon and his eyes glowed.

  “Come on,” Leon whispered, lowering his fist. “Don’t wake her.” Silently, the bird edged himself up and onto his arm. Lifting him, Leon crept out of the room, his girls never stirring.

  He took Ril downstairs and outside to where Betha stood next to his horse. Their servant held the gray’s reins, yawning and rubbing his eyes. Leon’s gear had all been tied behind the saddle.

  “Thanks,” he told the servant, and kissed his wife again. Finally he mounted and guided the horse out through the gate, sending it trotting toward the castle.

  It was only a five-minute ride, and when he entered the courtyard, he wasn’t terribly surprised to see no sign of Jasar or Mace. “Great,” he muttered. Turning his horse in a large circle, he waited, but there was no sign of the man. “Ril. Go wake His Lordship up.”

  Ril looked at him for a moment, then grudgingly spread his wings and flew up to the second floor of one of the towers. Leon suspected he was tracking Mace. At last the bird settled on a windowsill and shrieked into the room so loudly that Leon suspected they could hear it all the way back at his manor. He prayed the screech hadn’t woken the king. A moment later, he hoped it hadn’t woken Lizzy and the girls, especially not the baby. Betha didn’t need to deal with that.

  Ril had definitely woken someone. The battler leaped off the windowsill, barely flying out of the way of a large, mailed fist that shot out at him. Leon hid a smile. Mace wouldn’t have attacked without a direct order. At least Jasar was awake now.

  Ten minutes later, a servant in livery came out, sniffing imperiously as he walked over and bowed. “Lord Jasar Doliard of Sialmeadow sends his regrets, but he will not be able to join you for several more hours. He needs his morning constitutional.”

  Leon leaned down from his horse. “Tell Lord Jasar that if he isn’t out here in five minutes, I’ll send Ril to bring me back his balls. The rest of him can stay behind.”

  On his shoulder, Ril made a cackling sound. The servant blanched and bowed before hurrying off.

  It took another ten minutes before Jasar appeared in a dressing robe, Mace following along behind, and the courtier was livid when he did. Accompanied by the loathing of their battlers, the two men glared at each other.

  “How dare you!” Jasar snarled. “Do you know who I am?”

  “I know exactly who you are,” Leon snapped. “Now get your gear or mount your horse dressed like that. I don’t care which.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until I’m ready!”

  “You want that battler to get away?” Leon shouted. “You want to explain that to the king? Get your gear!”

  Jasar was livid, his face red and splotchy. Leon had made his point, though, and the other man turned, screaming obscenities to a servant and ordering him to get his horse and supplies. He stormed off to get dressed, Mace following.

  He didn’t reappear for another hour, and by then Leon was nearly in a rage. The sun was well above the horizon, and at this rate they wouldn’t find the trail anytime in the near future. To make it worse, Jasar was decked out in an entirely inappropriate outfit of lace and velvet, with high boots and an ornate cloak that wouldn’t keep him warm at all when wet.

  The courtier glared at Leon and mounted his horse, a delicate mare that didn’t look to have any stamina. Mace, under his direction, took up the lead tether of a second horse piled high with supplies. Leon had never seen such a thing, but he also didn’t care. Turning his gray, he rode forward, leaving Jasar to follow, which happened with a lot of cursing. Apparently the man thought he was supposed to be in charge. Leon had no intention of putting up with that, not after that farce with the pirates.

  They rode out of the city, heading for the village where Ril had fought the rogue battler; Leon hoped to find the sylph’s trail where he’d lost it at the river. But they’d only ridden for twenty minutes before Jasar called the first break.

  “Are you insane?” Leon thundered. “We just started!”

  “I’m tired!” Jasar snapped back. “And this saddle is hard!”

  “Are you a man or a woman?” Leon shouted. “We are not stopping now!”

  “You don’t command me, commoner!”

  Leon raised his arm, furious. “Ril!” The battler spread his wings, hissing.

  “M-Mace!” Jasar stammered, yanking uselessly on his horse’s reins. The massive sylph stepped before him, eyes on Leon.

  “Do you really want to find out who has the stronger battler?” Leon asked, disgusted. “And do you want to find out what I’ll do to you while they’re testing each other out? You will stop whining and follow me. I may be stuck with you, but I won’t let you screw up my mission. Is that clear, my lord?”

  Jasar stared at him, his bottom lip trembling. He finally turned away. “Fine. You’re the supposed expert.”

  “Good.” Leon spun his horse and kept riding.

  Jasar wouldn’t have ordered Mace to attack. Not while there was the slightest chance he’d lose. Leon looked at his battler, though, his order to Ril unspoken but clear: watch them.

  The bird glared in return, but his hate faded for a moment in agreement. Turning on Leon’s shoulder, he perched staring back, never blinking. Jasar started whining about it soon after, but Leon didn’t reply.

  They arrived at Otalo close to noon. Leon saw the old man he’d questioned and the girl’s aunt, both outside the bakery and staring at them in horror, but he didn’t bother to speak to either; he had the information he needed from them. Leading the courtier and accompanied by the two battlers, he rode quickly through the suddenly silent town and up into the woods. At the edge of the cliff above the river he dismounted, staring around at the place where he’d lost the battler.

  Damn. The trail was easy to find. The battler had been hiding in a crevice just below the edge of the cliff, and he’d left plenty of signs as he climbed b
ack up. The sylph’s tracks now led north, with no attempt to hide them.

  “I have his trail,” he announced, grinding his teeth. As he rose and returned to his horse, he thought briefly of sending Ril ahead, but he wasn’t sure just what his own sylph would find of the other battler.

  “Wonderful,” Jasar said, astride his horse and staring at nothing, a handkerchief held to his nose as though he smelled something rotten. Leon rolled his eyes and remounted. With luck, they’d find the battler quickly and get this over with. Then he could get rid of this deadweight.

  He put his heels to his horse and rode slowly into the woods, leaning over his saddle and staring close at the ground in order to read the fugitive’s tracks. Jasar sighed and followed, Mace trailing behind with the packhorse.

  Galway came out of the mercantile with a heavy pouch of coins, his furs having fetched a good price, and found that his new companion had taken off. Eyebrows raised, he looked up from where his two horses were still tethered, along the road that led to the fork to Para Dubh and the Shale Plains. The boy had been vociferous that they waste no time in town, but surely he hadn’t started walking again, had he? Galway had planned to get him some shoes and a cloak, and to have the doctor look at him. The boy hadn’t looked injured, but it was obvious he was sick. Was he stupid, too?

  Apparently he was, the trapper mused as he untied his horses and mounted up. He couldn’t let the boy make his own decisions, not in this apparently senseless frame of mind. The boy reminded Galway all too much of himself when he was young, full of attitude and idiocy. He needed someone older than him to bash him on the head and save him from himself. Galway was lucky enough to have had someone do that for him, and he’d always intended to return the favor.

  Amused by how the young were always so determined everything should happen now, he turned his horse and sent it at an easy trot northward, the packhorse trailing along behind. He had a full pouch of money, and his traps were all checked. He had some free time. He’d originally planned to head home and see the wife and family, but they were used to him being gone. He could do a little mentoring, maybe come home with another kid for his wife to raise. It wouldn’t be the first time.