“Why is Claw here?” he asked.
Mace took a moment before he answered—or bothered to answer, Leon corrected. Mace would never care much for men. “He’s of the hive,” the sylph said at last.
Leon nodded and tossed his sword on the floor. It clattered noisily. “I gather it’s over?”
No answer. Claw looked between Mace and Leon uncertainly.
“It’s over,” Leon decided, and turned to walk back into the hive, shivering from the cold air that came through the hole. It was threatening to snow again, and he made a note that someone would have to come down here to clear away the bodies and bring an earth sylph to close off that hole. There were a lot of holes to close and bodies to bury, and a thousand other things to deal with. He’d be sure to take care of them all, he knew, before he let himself think again. He hoped it took a very long time.
Chapter Thirty-one
Heyou went back to the mess hall the long way, forced nearly the full distance around the outer corridors of the hive before he was able to find a route that hadn’t been sealed off. He ran inside, arms spread, and after a startled moment everyone started cheering. As he rushed toward Solie, she leaped up from her seat on the table to meet him, and they slammed together, he lifting her off the ground and kissing her repeatedly. Everyone clapped and roared. She kissed him back, sobbing in relief as he swung her around, laughing.
“Did we win?” she gasped.
“Of course we did,” he replied. “We always win.”
She started laughing herself and kissed him again.
The exultation of victory was infectious. Grief would come later, when the dead were counted, but for now, everyone celebrated being alive. The fire sylphs danced above the crowd, lighting the underground as bright as day. The earth sylphs reopened every corridor, and the exhausted defenders trooped slowly back to rejoin their weeping families. There were some who didn’t return, and family and friends went to search out their bodies, but really the casualties were few. Thanks to Heyou and Leon.
If he sat down, Devon thought, he’d never be able to move again. He stumbled into the mess room, every part of his body aching, especially his arms and shoulders. Someone handed him a mug of beer, and he slumped down on a bench, wincing.
Airi sat too, shimmering into semitranslucence and smiling up beside him, a glimmer of joy in a childlike form. Able to feel her emotions as clearly as always, Devon sensed happiness about his survival, along with weariness. Wincing, he put his mug down and felt inside his tunic for his flute. Airi’s delight increased as he started to play, forcing his fingers to dance along the holes. He played a slow song—he didn’t have the energy to manage more than that—and the people nearby fell mostly silent, listening. It wasn’t a dirge but a sweet song of winter and a lost summer yet to be reclaimed. Airi closed her eyes, swaying happily back and forth.
Across the hall, Devon saw Galway pushing through the crowd, stopping to drink from his mug while he listened. He was clearly entranced by the music. Devon hadn’t known if the trapper even survived the fight in the stables, but the man only had a bandage around his head and looked stronger and healthier than Devon himself felt.
Devon finished his song and put the flute away. Airi sighed, wanting more, but she could wait. She knew that once Devon got some sleep, he’d play entire concertos for her.
As Galway approached, Devon stood. “I’m glad you’re alive,” he told the trapper.
“And you. It got hairy there. I hear the victory was cinched where you were fighting.”
Devon laughed. He and his companions hadn’t made the difference. They’d just ended up facing the last of the invaders. If those Eferem soldiers had realized they were the only ones left, they probably would have retreated.
“It’s the battlers who made the difference,” he admitted. “We wouldn’t have lasted much longer if they hadn’t shown up.” And frightened everyone senseless, he didn’t add. The fear of them would always be there, and he looked around uncertainly.
Heyou was nearby, acting no different than any other lusty teenager, trying to nuzzle Solie even as she walked across the room. Devon wouldn’t have seen her at all, but everyone cleared out of her way, giving her passage. They stared at her as if she was their leader now. Leon had lent his assistance and strategy, but she was the one who controlled the battlers. Devon hoped she could handle being queen. She’d have to.
“Have you seen Morgal or any of the other councilmen?” he asked Galway. He hadn’t seen Morgal escape the fight below, but he remembered hearing him scream before the battlers arrived.
Galway shook his head. “A few of the others. Morgal? No.”
Devon sighed and shook his head. He could see Luck the healer sylph standing near Solie. She was mending the injured, slowly making her way toward the two of them, but she didn’t try to go below. Whoever remained down there was beyond her power to heal.
“Damn,” he said.
“Yes, Morgal was a good man. We’ll raise a tankard to him once we’re rested—and to all those who gave themselves protecting our freedom.” Galway slapped Devon’s shoulder and he winced. “Get some sleep. For me, I think I’ll go see to Heyou before he tears that girl’s clothes off.” He wandered off into the crowd, following Solie and Heyou down the corridor and leaving Devon to sip his drink.
I’m tired, Airi said.
“So am I. I’m going to bed.” Pushing himself to his feet, Devon stumbled out and down the corridor that led toward his room. Even a bath could wait until later.
In the opposite direction, Solie followed Mace’s mental call into a room that was intended to be the quarters of a family, though none had claimed it yet. The earth sylphs had been happily at work all through the bluff, creating far more chambers than they needed or would ever use before spring, when they’d leave this place. They were happier doing so, though, and she wouldn’t argue. Part of freedom was doing what made you happy. There didn’t always have to be a reason.
Heyou followed so close that he was nearly a second skin, trying to lick her neck and get his hands under her clothes. Were all battlers so lusty? she wondered, even as she tried to push him back. At the same time, she contemplated leaving everyone for a while to take him back to her room. Would that be rude? She was feeling a little lusty herself.
She couldn’t sense exactly how the other battlers were feeling in comparison to Heyou. As queen she could perceive them, just as she could all her sylphs, but they were only a faint buzz in the back of her head. Only Heyou was clear—probably because of the depth of their attachment. It was a good thing. She’d go mad listening to too many voices at once.
They could call to her silently, though, just as any sylph could to its master, and she responded to Mace’s request for her to come at once. He hadn’t told her why, though, and she stopped short as she entered the chamber. That gave Heyou the chance to get his hand inside her dress and over her breast.
Shrieking, she doubled over, pulling away from him, and smacked him across the head. “Behave yourself!”
“Do I have to?”
Solie glared. Still, part of her thrilled at his attention, glad he was alive, even if he did seem determined to lay with her every chance he got.
She turned to find two battlers. She was relieved to see Mace was the same as ever. Like Heyou, he’d escaped combat with little or no injury, and she grinned at his mild expression of amusement. Beside him, however, was a creature out of nightmare, a hunched form with claws instead of hands, held up before him like a praying mantis’s forearms, and a mouth ringed with fangs. Strangely, she could feel him as easily as Mace, and his emotions were extremely…neurotic.
“This is Claw,” Mace explained. “One of our hive line. He felt you become the queen the same as I did. He was sent to destroy us, but he helped instead. Without Ril…he saved us.” He paused. “Can you please give him the orders you gave us?”
Solie’s head reeled. “Oh, of course,” she managed to say. She had four battlers now?
Part of her shrieked in fright, but Heyou leaned against her, nearly pushing her over. She braced herself and shoved back, at the same time banishing the momentary feeling of being overwhelmed.
“Claw?” she said. “Any order your master gave you, you don’t have to obey. You can take any form you want, and you can speak if you want. All I ask is you don’t fight except to protect the Community, and that you don’t use your hate aura except to protect the Community. Do you understand?”
Claw shivered, his beady eyes emotionless. “Yes,” he squeaked, his voice high and incongruous, with his shape.
Solie nodded, wondering how many more battlers she’d get at this rate. “Can you turn into a human?” she asked. “You’re kind of scary like that.”
Claw looked down and shimmered, reshaping himself. He transformed into a hunched, nervous-looking young man, eyes bulging and hands still held before him like the forelegs of a praying mantis. His skin was very pale, and his hair, bizarrely, was dark blue. The robes he’d been wearing now hung on him like a tent.
“Better?” he whimpered.
His emotions were primarily those of fear. Solie couldn’t really blame him, even as she wondered how any battler could be afraid of anything. What had his former master done to make him like this? Suddenly, the thought of having more battlers wasn’t so bad, not if it meant they’d be free.
“Not bad,” she told him as cheerfully as she could.
A moment later, a knock came at the door. “Galway,” Heyou said without even looking, and he turned around, pulling the door open.
The trapper stuck his head in. “Are you planning to come back anytime soon?” he asked, his appraising eyes on Heyou and Solie as if he’d expected to find them naked and rolling around on the floor.
Solie blushed. “Was someone asking for me?”
He shook his head. “But you’re the leader of this place. You’re going to have to speak. Leon’s probably going to want you, too. He’s just coming back.”
“Is he all right?” she asked worriedly. She saw a lot of hard years ahead, and she needed his experience. Galway’s as well, if she could convince him to stay. She’d need a lot of men willing to train and advise a female monarch.
“Looks like. I can see him coming up the passage. I’ll talk to him for a bit, ask him to stop in here before he goes anywhere else. He’ll tell you what needs doing.” The trapper regarded Heyou sternly, who just grinned back, and withdrew his head from the room. The door closed.
It opened again barely a minute later. Solie glanced up, expecting Leon, but the widow entered instead. She gave Solie the appraising look that always made her want to hang her head and shuffle her feet, but then turned to Mace.
“I see you’re not dead,” she said.
“No.”
“Were you planning to tell me?”
His eyebrows rose. “I thought I did.”
Her arms crossed. “No. You sent a whisper in my head summoning me to your august presence. I’m not a dog, you know.”
He tilted his head to one side, and Solie felt his emotions soften. “I’m very sorry,” he told her honestly. “I need your help with something.”
Apparently, the widow felt his contrition as well. Her demeanor softened—if just a bit. Solie felt uncomfortably as though she was spying on them both.
“What is it?” the widow asked.
Mace pointed a thumb. “This is Claw,” he told her. The blue-haired battler started, having been happy to fade into the background. “He’s a battler of the hive. He’s tied to Solie, but none of us are permitted to draw on her energy.”
“I am,” Heyou chirped.
“You better start drawing from Galway instead, pup,” Mace told him flatly, and the youngster made a face. Solie chuckled. She couldn’t feel any of them take from her anyway.
“Claw needs a master,” Mace continued. “Someone to pattern his energy to as a secondary to Solie. A woman.” He looked at her directly. “A woman willing to have sex with him.”
Claw perked up.
The widow pursed her lips. “What is it with you battlers and sex?”
“That’s what we’re for. Fighting and sex.”
“Do you realize how many men I’ve heard say that?” Still, the widow put her hands on her hips. “I’ll see if I can find any volunteers. There are a number of widows here who have no children to care for and who are still young enough to have interest in you battlers and your…stamina. No children, mind you.” She glared over at Solie, who blushed. “I am not handing a mere girl over to a battler’s lust. You’ll get a woman who’s had her children already and has no man, since I doubt you fools will share. Understood?”
Claw blinked. “I get a woman?” He sounded faint with amazement.
“Only if I can find one who wants you.” She inspected him, obviously not impressed by what she saw. “Until then, stay away from my girls!” The battler blinked again, nodded shakily when she glared, and seemed relieved when she faced Mace. “As for you, no more silent whispering in my head. If you want something, you’ll come up to me and ask politely—got it?”
“Yes, Lily,” he answered serenely.
The widow only sniffed and swept out of the room. “I can’t believe I’ve been reduced to pimping,” she muttered as she went, holding the door wide for Leon, who came in.
He stopped and stared after her. “Did she just say what I thought she did?”
Solie giggled. “Yes. We have another battler now. Meet Claw.”
Leon considered the blue-haired sylph and nodded. He didn’t seem surprised at all. “Good. There may be another attack.”
Solie went white. “Another one?”
“The air ship escaped,” Leon told her. “The king will know what happened. The question is whether he’s willing to risk more battlers, when he’s already lost six. He only has nine left. Eight, considering he’d never let Thrall leave his side.”
Solie imagined eight battlers descending on the Community and felt ill. Heyou put his arms around her.
“I doubt he’ll do it,” Leon continued. “I would, if I wanted to end us as a threat. The odds are still in his favor but…Alcor is paranoid.” He smirked. The smile, however, didn’t last more than a moment, and it never touched his eyes. “I think he’ll pull his tail in and hide, but I can’t guarantee it. We’ll need all the battlers we can get.”
“Where are we supposed to get more?”
“Summon them. Bring a dozen battlers over to willing women, and we’ll outnumber him. Keep the secret of how it’s done, and we’ll never have to worry about an invading army.”
Solie stared at him. “Wow.”
“Indeed.” He looked toward the door. “You should get back out there—let your people see you. They need that sort of recognition now. We’ll make all the necessary decisions tomorrow.”
There was something terribly sad about him. Solie couldn’t feel his emotions very clearly and didn’t want to, but she knew the man was somehow drowning in them. “Are you all right?” she asked uncertainly. He had blood on him, but he didn’t look hurt.
Leon turned back and smiled at her sadly. “I will be. They say it’s hard on the master when a sylph dies. I feel like Ril’s still there in my head.”
Solie blinked. “Ril’s not dead.”
Leon stared.
“I just saw him,” she blubbered in denial, feeling a wave of horror and sorrow pass over her. “Luck brought him in. He’s messed up, but he’s alive. Did he die?” She could still feel him, distant and in shock. No, he couldn’t be dead! “He was with your family when I—”
She said the last to his back. Leon was already running out the door.
Solie looked up at Mace. “Did you know Ril was still alive?”
The big battler shook his head. “He should have died. That healer didn’t do him a favor by saving him. He’ll never be what he was.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Solie protested. “He’s alive. That’s a good thing.”
�
��As you say, my queen,” Mace replied, and Heyou tightened his arms around her, his face buried against her neck. Claw just sighed, staring at his hands and thinking about women.
Leon charged into the mess hall, his heart pounding. He’d felt Ril, felt him the whole time, but he hadn’t comprehended. He could feel him even now, but the emotions of the battler were so shattered that he hadn’t recognized them. He had thought the numbness and horror were his own emotions. Whatever had just happened, Ril was deep in shock.
He didn’t stop for the impromptu party that had broken out, though he was not surprised at all to see it. In the face of such terror and death, people had to let go. Not ready yet to do so himself, he pushed through the crowd, finding himself slapped on the back and having his hand shaken. Once the enemy of these people, now he was tearfully thanked for saving their lives. Leon nodded and kept going, wanting to see both his battler and his family, not sure in truth which he needed to see more.
Ahead, the crowd parted enough for him to see his wife, and the question was answered as he hurried forward, suddenly desperate to get to her. “Betha!” he shouted. She turned to him, eyes wide, and suddenly she was pushing toward him as well, Ralad screaming in her arms. Leon met her near the end of the room and hugged her and the baby both. Betha sobbed in relief, pressing against him even as she struck him with her fist. She screamed at him, holding the baby safe, but he stepped back and cupped her face with both hands, holding her gently still for a deliberate and thorough kiss.
As he finished, Nali waddled up, thumb in her mouth, and regarded her father with great indignation. “Papa, Ril won’ turn into a pony,” she complained.
Leon stared down at his three-year-old daughter, wanting to pick her up and kiss her, too. “What?”
“A pony! I wan’ him to turn into a pony and he won’!”
Leon managed a smile, not aware of the tears that had started down his cheeks the moment he saw his wife. His family was alive, all of them. “He’s not feeling well, Nali. You have to give him some time.”
“It’s not fair! He’s never been a pony!”
The Battle Sylph Page 29