“How come she didn’t vanish?” Morgal asked uncertainly. For all his dislike of Solie and her battlers, he’d been shaken by the news that Bock tried to kill her. He didn’t know how to feel about the fact that it was Leon who was her rescuer. After everything, he didn’t dare trust the man.
“She’s tied to the queen,” Mace told him grudgingly, after a moment of silence and after Solie gave him a curious glance. “All the sylphs here are. If their masters die, their link to her keeps them here.”
Standing behind her chair with his arms crossed, Leon leaned over to Ril. “Does that mean if I die you’ll be all right?”
Ril considered and nodded. Leon straightened, looking pleased.
“She’ll need a new master, though,” Mace added. “No one should feed from the energy of the queen.”
“Does that include me?” Heyou asked. Solie smiled at him and shook her head. He beamed.
Morgal sighed, looking around at the audience chamber, for lack of a better term. It was now five hours after the attack, and the battlers had been outraged. It had taken everything the redheaded girl had to keep them from killing anyone they even thought might be a threat. He shuddered. It might have been better if Bock had succeeded. The battlers would have been gone, then, along with all their outlandish ideas.
Across the room, Ril looked straight at him and growled. Terrified, Morgal cringed back, and Leon looked in his direction. The man studied him for a moment before raising an eyebrow. He first pointed a thumb at Solie, and then at himself, then jabbed it discreetly in Ril’s direction.
Morgal didn’t understand at first; then it came to him. Leon was Ril’s master. If Solie died, Ril wouldn’t be banished. If Solie had been killed…Morgal sagged against the wall and Leon nodded.
“What’s wrong?” Solie asked nervously. She could feel his emotions with sylphs around, Morgal remembered, and he shuddered again.
“I think our friend just realized what would have happened to this place if you’d died,” Leon spoke up. Solie looked puzzled. “Ril’s still tied to me,” he explained. “I think he would have been…upset.”
“I would have turned this bluff into ash,” the battler said. There was no trace of humor in his voice at all.
“Ril!” Solie gasped, and Morgal distantly found himself marveling that she was hesitant and uncertain around the council but bossed around the deadliest creatures in the world like children. “You can’t do that!”
“Why not?”
“It would be wrong!”
All three battlers looked entirely unconvinced.
Solie puffed out a breath. “No one is turning any bluffs into ash, is that clear?”
“You take all the fun out of it,” Heyou sulked.
Solie rolled her eyes and shifted her attention to the little sylph huddled in the center of the room. “Shore? Um, how long had your master been planning to, uh…you know.”
“Hadn’t,” the sylph said out loud, her voice bubbling softly. “He just…got angry. I—I—I warned. Didn’t want him to die! Didn’t want you to die! It’s so lonely!”
She sounded utterly miserable, and Morgal reached for Ash. The fire sylph pressed against his side, also in the shape of a child, her heat turned down as low as possible. He could feel her relief that her queen was safe. She was much calmer than he himself felt. He’d apologized for the council once he heard about the attack, and Solie had accepted, but it was clear now: no matter what any of them thought, she was in charge. Having never wanted power, Morgal tried to convince himself that he didn’t mind, but putting a girl in control felt fundamentally wrong.
Heyou looked at him and hissed. Morgal ducked his head.
“It’s okay,” Solie told Shore, kneeling on the floor with her hand against the sylph’s cheek. “You can have a new master—someone to take energy from who’ll pay all the attention to you that you need. Is there someone you’d like?” The water sylph hesitated. “It’s okay. You can choose.”
Shimmering, Shore became a pool of water and flowed across the floor, leaving the stone behind her dry as she passed over it. Glancing at the battlers, Solie followed. Curious himself and not wanting to stay, Morgal pushed in pursuit.
The hall was crowded, people making their way carefully around in what were still tight quarters. Solie followed the water sylph, Morgal somehow ending up just behind her, and he realized in one terrified moment that he was between her and her battlers. A moment later a red hawk flew over his head and landed on her shoulder, and he breathed a sigh of relief.
They went into the eating area. It was the largest open space in the hive, the high ceiling held up by columns of thick stone and already half-full at the dinner hour. The smell of whale soup and potatoes drifted through, making Morgal realize that he was actually hungry. People eyed the newcomers, nodding at Morgal but watching Solie with uncertainty. They didn’t know how to deal with her any more than Morgal did, but no one tried anything as Ril ruffled his wings on her shoulder and the other two moved past Morgal to her side.
Leon followed, his hands clasped behind his back. People gawped at him with real hate, but he either didn’t notice or didn’t react. Morgal doubted it was the former. No one said anything about the assassination attempt, either. So far, none of them knew.
All of them watched Shore. She flowed into the center of the room and hesitated. There wasn’t much for her to choose from, Morgal thought. There were only twenty or so men who didn’t have a sylph already, and many had already tried to get one without success. She’d probably have to settle for a youngster.
The water sylph headed away from the men, moving at Solie’s encouragement toward a table with teens sitting at it, just as Morgal predicted. He had just realized the teens were all girls, though, when she shaped herself back into a more human form and reached for one. It was fourteen-year-old Loren Malachi. The girl gawked at the water sylph for half a second, and then realized what she had. She gave the biggest grin Morgal had ever seen.
“Damn,” he heard, someone else verbalizing his reaction, and he looked over in shared sympathy to find he was staring at Mace—which made him nearly swallow his own tongue in fright. “I wanted that girl for myself,” said the battler with regret.
The girls were never going to get to sleep. Every last one of them seemed to be piled on Loren’s bed, each trying to become the new best friend of the water sylph. The widow doubted any sylph in the history of the world had ever received so much attention.
“Fifteen minutes!” she bellowed from the doorway. “If you’re not in bed in fifteen minutes, I’ll tan the backsides of the lot of you!” Giggles echoed back, and she slammed the stone door on them. Fifteen minutes to curfew. They’d better obey, or else.
Turning, she gathered her skirts and stomped toward the boys’ quarters. Knowing them, they were all awake complaining about how they didn’t get a sylph. Still, she admitted with a sigh, it was good they were happy. The last month had been rough. Many of the children had lost their fathers or brothers, and all of them their homes. She understood that pain. It was ten years since she’d lost her husband, and she still thought about him from time to time. The young were resilient, though. She wished she had their resiliency—and their youth. Nowadays, she just felt old and unappreciated. Witch, they called her. She sniffed and walked on.
When she’d been told they were moving all the children belowground, she’d made sure the arranged rooms for the boys and girls were as far apart as possible. She wasn’t so foolish as to think none would get together, but she was going to make it as hard as possible. The separate sleep areas were situated so that to get to either, you had to pass through the mess hall, making anyone on a midnight raid sure to be seen. Or so she hoped.
The widow turned a corner and stopped in surprise. “Don’t you dare,” she snarled. “You are not coming in here!” She glanced back toward the girls’ chambers.
Mace stared down at her, easily a foot taller, and she was not small. “I wasn’t going to. I
’m patrolling,” he said calmly.
She snorted, not believing that for an instant. Planting her fists on her hips, she advanced, refusing to give in to the fear she felt. “You’re not patrolling in there. One sylph is more than enough!”
“I didn’t have anything to do with that,” he told her. “I wouldn’t have given her to the girl.”
“Because you’re interested in her yourself?”
“Of course.”
Over the years of her life, the widow had made many a man cower in fear. Mace didn’t even flinch, which she found both intensely irritating and a little intriguing. He just observed her.
“What is so fascinating about Loren?” she asked.
The battler shrugged. “She’s strong. I like strong females and I need a master.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “I thought you had a master already.” And the thought of what the girl Solie was probably doing with those battlers infuriated the widow. The fact that she wasn’t permitted to do anything about it drove her mad. It certainly drove her other female wards to giggling distraction.
Mace stepped closer. “Solie is my queen. But I don’t want to drain her energy to fuel myself, and she doesn’t have time to give me the attention I want. I need a master. Someone who can bind me to this world as she does and from whom I can draw the energy I need to fight. Someone I can be with.”
The widow found she was getting warm, and crossed her arms. “You are not draining anything out of those girls. Go find some man to be your master. And stay away from my boys!”
“I won’t have a man,” he said, circling her. The widow started to feel ever so slightly trapped.
“You’re not taking a child!”
He leaned in, his face moving close to hers. The hallway was abruptly warmer, tingles running through her entire body. “I should have said I liked strong women. Loren’s strong. You’re stronger.”
The widow nearly lost her train of thought. The battler smelled delicious. But a moment later her eyes narrowed. “What are you doing to me?”
“Seducing you.”
He was quite good at it, too, she thought—right before she grabbed his ear and twisted. Mace was so surprised, the aura of lust he’d been filling her with vanished. “Good,” she hissed. “Now, you listen to me. I’m not some little trollop you can just turn on and have your way with. Understood?”
“Yes.”
She nodded, not letting go of his ear. “Good. Now, are you going to behave yourself?”
“Probably not.” He sounded amused but didn’t try to extricate himself from her grip.
“Stay away from my girls,” she repeated loudly.
“I don’t think I want any of them anymore,” he replied. His meaning was clear.
The widow was shocked. She let go of his ear, and he straightened. “But I’m old!”
“You’re younger than I am.”
“I can’t have children anymore.” She’d lost three to miscarriages.
“Doesn’t matter to me. I can’t get you with child anyway.”
“I’m no virgin.”
“I would have fixed that anyway.”
She paused, thinking. “You won’t use that power of yours on me again?” The question came out with more hesitation than she liked.
“Not if you order me not to.”
“Good. Consider yourself ordered.” And with that, she took his hand and led him to her bed.
Eventually the girls realized that their fifteen minutes had been greatly extended, but the widow didn’t return.
Chapter Twenty-five
The storm that had blown out from the northern mountains finally started to wear out, the wind lessening and the swirling snow finally settling on the bluff and surrounding plains. It was at least five feet deep, but in places smoke curled up from bored-out holes.
In the hive’s main stairwell, Leon dug awkwardly, trying not to fall down the steps as he pushed snow out of the way. He was feeling both annoyed at the need and absurdly grateful that the sylph who’d dug the stairs had put an awning over the top. She just needed to add a door. He’d been forced to dig his way through windblown accumulation that blocked the top half of the stairs.
“Well, that settles it,” he muttered, looking outside at the distant skyline. Blue was starting to peek through holes in the cloud cover, and the sun shining off the sea of white was painful. “We definitely need to move in the spring.” The Community never should have retreated to this place. Doing so showed an enormous lack of foresight on the part of their former leaders. But then, they hadn’t taken charge due to their tactical skills. They’d been idealists, not warriors, and they had never really expected to be driven out of their adopted homes.
Their first location had been much better thought out. Leon hadn’t seen their whole town, but he remembered the valley. It was at the eastern edge of the Shale Plains, sheltered by the mountains that cut the land off from the ocean. Para Dubh sat on the other side, but they didn’t use the Shale Plains any more than Eferem, and were slightly more reasonable. As a kingdom they had battlers to prevent invasion, but were far less insular than Alcor. Their wealth came from trade with countries on the far side of the world, their ships sailing on both the ocean and the air. King Alcor had always been envious of their wealth, but every skirmish with them had been short-lived, with no one willing to engage in a full-blown war. Leon had participated in more than one formalized fight, pitting Ril against battle sylphs from Para Dubh. Ril had always won, but not all of Eferem’s battlers could say the same. Ultimately, Para Dubh had more battle sylphs than Alcor wanted to risk fighting against. While it was true, had the Community stayed where they were, either Eferem or Para Dubh would eventually have come to crush or absorb them, now that they had battlers of their own. They wouldn’t be so vulnerable when they returned.
Leon glanced over his shoulder at his own battler. Ril hadn’t helped him dig up to the surface, but then, Leon hadn’t asked. He wasn’t sure what his relationship with the sylph was going to be now, but he wanted to be careful that it was a good one. Both of them still had their issues to work through, and Leon didn’t want Ril thinking he was viewed as a slave. So Leon did the work himself while the battler watched.
Finally, he set the shovel aside and turned. “Ready?” he asked, rubbing one sore shoulder. The battler shrugged, not quite looking at him, and moved forward. Ril never looked directly at him, Leon noticed with some regret.
The battler let go of his shape as he put his arms around Leon, lifting him up in a whirl of darkness. Unable to see, Leon felt himself rise, and then they were flying on the winds, heading away from the hive. Even blind as he was, Leon gasped at the feel of it all.
What? Ril asked sullenly.
“This is magnificent!” Leon exclaimed. “This is flying?”
Yes, the battler answered, sounding a little mollified.
Leon smiled and settled back, floating in absolute blackness, but warm and comfortable. Even though he knew he was high above the ground, he felt safe.
Ril flew high over the snow-covered plains, Leon held carefully inside his mantle. Time passed and the miles did too, the return trip much faster than the journey to the bluff. What had originally taken nearly a week Ril now guessed would take a little less than a day. Not that he was in any rush. It felt good to fly this way again, to be this way. He could change shape, but he wasn’t really designed to inhabit any for long periods of time. Staying as a bird for so long had sometimes made him itch until he’d thought he’d go mad, and he stretched now as he flew.
Leon had fallen asleep, Ril noted eventually, worn out by his labor. Though part of him wanted to dump the man into the snow, he instead cradled him more carefully and continued flying. Leon both was and wasn’t his master anymore. The man had sworn himself to the queen, and he’d proved his loyalty when he saved her life. And for the sake of his own sanity, Ril had needed to let the hate go. He felt lighter as a result, happier.
Either way, in this
, both were of the same mind. With Solie’s permission—for Ril couldn’t have forced himself to leave the hive without it—together they were headed to collect Leon’s family.
Lizzy! All of the girls were precious to him, but Lizzy…Ril ached to see her again. She wouldn’t be his queen now, and Ril had mourned that even as he gave himself over to Solie. There was only one queen of a hive. But Lizzy could be his master, like Leon. Or more precisely, like the widow, for Mace. Once Lizzy was old enough to share her energy with him, that is. Her energy and her heart.
Below him the plains passed smoothly, eventually replaced by the white snow-covered shapes of the forests they’d traversed before. Finding a ribbon of road, he followed it, flying over the town they’d spent the night in. Awake again, Leon lay patiently inside him, occasionally shifting position but not saying anything. Eventually, he dozed off again.
They flew on, farmlands replacing the forests below and the snow vanishing, the more southern air still a little too warm. Tiny hamlets dotted the fields, with larger keeps on top of bluffs, and finally the great capital of Eferem.
Ril dropped down well clear of the city’s outer walls, studying the black flags that hung from the ramparts. The city was in mourning—he supposed for the dead prince—but no one felt upset. Ril could feel their emotions easily as he swept by unseen, finally landing in a copse of trees, where he set Leon on his feet.
“How long did it take us to get here?” the man asked in amazement.
Ril shrugged. “Most of a day.” They’d left in midmorning. It was now morning of the next day.
“That’s incredible. You’re faster than an air ship’s sylph.”
“That’s because I don’t have something as heavy to carry,” the battler retorted, storming out of the bush. Leon shook his head and followed.
They found a side road that led through a secondary gate into the city and eventually to the keep. Ril walked in the human form he’d adopted, keeping his aura tightly concealed, and Leon put up his hood and hunched his shoulders. He walked a few feet behind the battler, as though he were a servant, following him through the gate. He knew the men who guarded it, and they’d have questions if they recognized him, but they had no reason to stop two ordinary men walking into the city on their own. Depending on what Jasar had reported, the king would probably think of him as an enemy now. Of course, Alcor would expect Leon to send Ril for any attack, and he’d still expect the battler to be a bird.
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