The Battle Sylph Read online

  “Please let me go!” she wailed. “What do you want with me?”

  The man who held her laughed roughly, slapping her backside and making her cry out. “We don’t want you, girl. We just want female bait. There’s a battler coming for the prince tonight. You’ll like him.” The other men laughed as well.

  Solie’s heart froze. A battler? They wanted her for a battler? Like everyone, she’d heard stories of sylphs, spirits bound to serve human men with their magic. She’d grown up on those stories, distantly wishing for one herself but knowing it would never happen. Only men bound sylphs, and then, only men with more rank than her family had. Battlers were the horror stories of the sylphs, though: evil creatures born only to destroy. The safety of all Eferem was based on them, but they were cold and cruel, and according to the stories, to gain their services required the sacrifice of a virgin girl.

  Solie started to scream, trying to buck off the horse. That made it shy, whinnying nervously. The soldier who held her cursed, and he threw her down onto the ground. Solie tried to scramble to her feet and run, but the man dismounted and grabbed her again, pinning her easily into the dirt while the other men bound her hands and feet.

  “Gag her as well,” he snarled. “She’s damned loud.”

  They shoved a rag into her mouth and pulled her upright. Her wrists bound together, Solie could only move her fingers as she was hauled back across the saddle. The horses started to move again.

  This wasn’t supposed to happen! All the confidence her aunt had given her was gone, and she cried into her gag, her face pressed against her bound hands. Then she touched her barrette. Blinking, she felt the butterfly under her fingers—it had slipped free during her struggles. She unhooked it from her hair, keeping it hidden. The soldier didn’t notice, shouting something to his companions about getting a wagon.

  They were starting to canter on cobblestones now, which clattered loudly under the horses’ shoes as they entered the city that surrounded the king’s castle, passing through a side gate in the main wall and swerving their mounts down back alleys where no one could see them. Finally, they pulled up at a barn, where two of the soldiers dismounted. The man holding Solie stayed on his horse, one hand on her back, while his companions readied a cart. Solie twisted her head around to look pleadingly up at him.

  “Too bad the battlers prefer virgins,” he said, leering down at her. Solie shuddered and looked away.

  They transferred her to an old cart that smelled as though it was used to carry vegetables. Its wooden boards were cold and hugely uncomfortable, but the men put a tarp over her that blocked the increasingly frigid night air. Solie was doubly glad of it; the three men sat on the seat ahead of her, probably looking back, but they wouldn’t be able to see her under the tarp. Solie couldn’t see in the darkness either, but she could feel her barrette.

  She carefully worked the butterfly out from her palm to the edge of her fingers, careful not to drop it—she might lose it in the darkness if she did. Trying not to shiver as the cold seeped into her from the bottom of the wagon, she managed to point the tiny weapon toward her wrists before pushing on the little latch that would release the blade. This eased out—barely an inch long, but enough to convince a man to leave her alone, her aunt claimed. Solie took a deep breath and bent her fingers as much as she could, bringing the knife to the rope and starting to saw. It was hard, agonizing work, but the blade was sharp, and she nearly wept as she felt the first strands part. Yet the rope was thick and it took time to cut through.

  The sound of the horses’ hoofbeats changed, sounding hollow, and she realized they’d gone inside the castle. She resisted the urge to scream or work any faster. She’d only drop her knife if she did, or make too much motion and give herself away. Her chances of escaping were slim enough as it was. She tried not to think of that, just focused on cutting her bonds one strand at a time.

  The cart turned a corner, descended, and finally stopped. She heard the men dismounting but kept sawing until the last second, palming the knife again just as they threw back the tarp. Blinking away tears, she looked up into a terrible brightness. They had a fire sylph, something Solie had never seen up close before. She saw it clearly now, floating above everyone in the form of a ball of light, illuminating the area as bright as day.

  They were underground, in a cavern, and she whined behind her gag as the soldiers yanked her off the cart and held her above the ground between them, one gripping her under the shoulders, the other under the knees.

  A man dressed in white frowned at Solie. “She’ll do,” he decided. “Everything else is ready. Come.” He turned with a dramatic sweep of his robes and strode off, leading the soldiers down a corridor cut out of solid rock, the walls shiny as glass and reflective—the work of an earth sylph, since there weren’t any tool marks.

  Solie stared. Her reflection was better than anything she’d ever seen by glancing into a puddle or a lake, and she blinked at her first clear view of herself. She looked awful, her curly red hair a mess and her face covered in dirt and bruises. Her eyes were heavily shadowed, her skin blotchy from tears. She looked broken and ugly, and she tried not to sob again. She had to be strong—she had to be, or she’d die. She probably would die anyway, but her aunt would be ashamed of her if she cowered like some weak little girl. For that reason, she closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, they were hard. She could feel the knife between her palms, and the ropes were a little looser, the innermost loop mostly sawn through. If she could cut the rest of the way, she’d be able to free her hands. Then she might have a chance.

  The men dragged her into an underground cathedral, its high arching roof lit by more fire sylphs, whose masters stood along the walls dressed in red with their heads bowed. More men armed with swords stood closer to the center of the room, as did a group of priests in robes and one man in ermine.

  Solie shivered, recognizing the king. He was heavyset, his beard turning gray and his eyes like chips of flint. She had seen him before in the paintings they hung in inns, and once inside a carriage at a distance. He didn’t even look at her, speaking harshly to a young man dressed in expensive yellow silks that didn’t match his skin tones. The young man was shaking, staring at her as she passed as though he’d never seen a woman before.

  “Pay attention!” The king slapped him across the face, and the boy flinched.

  “Yes, Father,” he apologized, his eyes still tracking Solie for a moment as she was hoisted up onto a dais and stretched out over an altar, her rope bindings passed over restraining metal hooks. She started her muffled shrieking again as the white-robed man started to cut off her clothing.

  “The priests will open the gate,” the king told his nervous son. “They swear there’s a battler on the other side.” He shot them a glare that had the men surreptitiously cowering. “Once it crosses over, kill the girl. Don’t hesitate or it won’t be bound to you. The second it turns to you, name it. That will complete the binding.”

  Solie gasped for breath on the altar, shaking over what she’d heard. They were going to kill her. The soldiers turned away, leaving her there, and she fumbled her barrette knife out again, praying no one saw it as she resumed sawing at her bonds. No one did. They didn’t even look at her.

  “What do I name it?” the boy whimpered, twitching.

  “Name it whatever you want,” the king snapped. “Just don’t pick a stupid name, as you can’t change it later. Don’t fail me in this, boy. The king has always had a battler. You’ll be a target for your enemies otherwise.” When the boy squirmed, the king slapped him again and laughed harshly. “He won’t let me smack you around anymore—though if he tried to stop me, my battler would go after him. He’ll be your constant companion, as Thrall is mine. The only time Thrall is away from my side is in here, or when I’m with a woman. So be prepared to get used to it.”

  The prince looked down, obviously not thrilled with the idea. Solie sawed desperately at her bonds, none too pleased herself.
<
br />   The white-robed man bowed to the king. “We’re ready, my liege.” The king nodded and stepped back, preferring to watch from the entrance to the corridor through which they had arrived.

  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.

  Chapter Two

  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 bad
ly 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.