The Shattered Sylph (5 page)

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Authors: L. J. McDonald

BOOK: The Shattered Sylph
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Chapter Four

Ever since his injury, when he’d been torn in two by another battler in defense of the hive, Ril had needed to sleep. Before that, in fifteen years of slavery he’d slept no more than a dozen times, each briefly. Now he slept as humans did, lying insensate and feeble as a corpse every night. Useless.

He’d never been much of a dreamer, even with his increased need for slumber, but now he woke from nightmares he couldn’t understand or remember, shuddering from confusion as images of a small, confined space shivered out of his mind, replaced by a woman shrieking. Every instinct told him to get up, to shift to his natural form and attack whatever threatened, but as he went to do so, he gasped in pain, his entire body rebelling. Agony like a thousand burrowing maggots shot through him, and he fell back against his bedroll, shaking. He could shift shape, if he accepted the pain, but to return to his true form was beyond him now. With his mantle tattered, he couldn’t hold his natural shape anymore, not without help and not without even greater pain. He’d fall apart into nothingness if he tried.

Ril sat up, staring around him as a mix of different emotions flooded in from the others. It was past dawn, past breakfast, and his companions were awake. Leon was standing over a small campfire and waving his arms wildly, cursing and yelling at Gabralina to calm down. The blonde was dancing around madly, screaming.

“A bee!” she shrieked. “It’s a bee! Kill it! Kill it!” She flapped at a tiny, buzzing form and leaped back. Still swearing, Leon waved it away, his emotions frustrated and angry.

Awake now, Ril lunged out of bed, tossing his blanket back as he bolted across the clearing. Leon saw him coming just as Ril launched himself. He hit the taller man hard, knocking them both to the ground. Rolling, Ril forced his master underneath him and threw up a solid wall of force, ignoring the pain it caused.

The clearing exploded. Ordered to hold in his hate aura, Wat had still moved to defend his master. The full power of his blast slammed into Ril’s shield, washing over it and past, vaporizing trees and bushes, obliterating their camp and the horses that had been tethered beyond. An instant later it was gone, and Ril had a moment to wonder if the idiotic battler had destroyed his own master in the attack, thereby banishing himself back to their original world.

Apparently he hadn’t. Ril heard her crying as he rolled off Leon, shivering in reaction. Once, he could have held that blast back easily. Now he was useless.

Leon pushed himself upright, checking on his battler first before looking over at Wat with raging eyes. The sylph stood with Gabralina in the center of a circle of destruction nearly five hundred feet across, cooing. Except for a patch of grass right under her feet, everything around them was simply gone, blasted right down to the bedrock. The girl stared around in amazement, absently stroking her battler’s arm while he held her. Taking that as an invite, he started to lick her neck.

“Wow,” she managed. “You really killed the bee.”

“And everything else, too!” Leon shouted, his face red. Wat glanced over, glaring, and Leon visibly forced himself to calm down. “That wasn’t necessary, Wat.”

“She was under attack,” Wat protested.

“It was a
bee
,” Ril said, staring up at the sky that had been half-obscured by trees until now. It felt good to just lie still for a minute. He could get up later. “That was overkill.”

“What’s overkill?”

“When you obliterate everything within five hundred feet to protect your master from an insect the size of a thumbnail.” Leon shook his head and looked down at Ril.
Thank you,
he mouthed. Ril just shrugged and closed his eyes, dozing.

“I don’t like bees,” Gabralina said innocently, smiling at her battler. “You’re so smart!”

A moment later, Leon had to go over and pull them apart.

The day was almost lost. They were two and a half weeks out of the kingdom of Yed but still more than a week and a half from home. Worse, to Leon’s intense discomfort, they were within the borders of the kingdom of Eferem, whose king he had once served. Alcor was still on the throne, but with his priesthood nearly destroyed and six of his battlers lost—three subsumed and three destroyed in the conflicts six years ago—he was afraid of challenging Sylph Valley. Instead he cowered in his castle, his battler Thrall always at his side. Leon knew the man was power hungry and paranoid, but his fear controlled him more than anything else and he wouldn’t risk another attack. Not unless circumstances changed. That wouldn’t stop him from wanting to see Leon’s head on a pike, though.

They were still at the southern end of the kingdom, well away from the main city, but Leon didn’t want to stay there any longer than necessary. Especially not after
Wat’s little episode. They’d moved a few miles farther, but that blast zone was right by a well-traveled road. It couldn’t help but be noticed, and Alcor did still have battlers. Leon wouldn’t trust Wat against one, and he wouldn’t risk Ril. They had to wait before they made a run for it, though, at least long enough for Ril to rest.

The battler lay on his side at one end of the clearing, wearing the shape of a lean roan horse, his rusty red coat sleek and smooth. He was breathing regularly. Changing form was horrible for him, but he was fine once the work was done. Leon had suggested he sleep for a while, and Ril hadn’t protested. He was tired after holding off that blast and changing forms. Leon was unsurprised. Once he got Ril home, they were both going to take a very long break.

He was looking forward to that—and more especially to being rid of Gabralina and her moronic battler. Leon knew the girl had undergone a terrible shock and was still nervous, but she’d been whining about the loss of their supplies all afternoon until he’d finally threatened to paddle her if she didn’t stop. That had shut her up, but now her feelings were hurt and she looked almost ready to cry. Wat stood nearby, staring at Leon blankly.

“Wat, will you please turn into a horse?”

“A horse?”

Leon prayed for patience. “An animal like the one Gabralina was riding. The black horse with the white nose. Turn into that animal.”

“Why?”

“Because she needs a horse to ride. I’ll be riding Ril. See him? He’s already like a horse.”

“He’s not black with a white nose.”

Leon clenched his hands. “It doesn’t matter what color you are.”

“Then why’d you ask me to be a black horse with a white nose?”

“What’s wrong with Ril?” Gabralina spoke up, apparently distracted from her sulk. “Is he sick?”

Leon took a deep breath. “No. Changing shape is hard for him. He’s sleeping.”

She frowned. “Wat doesn’t sleep.”

“Wat doesn’t need to,” he explained. “He’s a very healthy battler. Ril isn’t. He doesn’t like that pointed out, though,” he added.

“Oh. So Wat is stronger?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “Which means he should have no trouble turning into a horse, no matter what the color.”

“Why?” Wat asked again.

“Because you turned our horses into dust, and it’s too far for Gabralina and me to walk!”

“How come Ril is weaker than Wat?” Gabralina asked.

The girl asked more questions than a child, but that was probably just another sign of her fear. She didn’t seem to know how to relate to Leon at all, except by whining and questioning. After two and a half weeks of her company, however, Leon knew that failing to provide some form of answer would just make her ask more questions as she started fearing he didn’t like her. The people of Yed had likely picked her for a sacrifice just to shut her up, he’d decided. Ril was in full agreement with that assessment: he loathed the girl. Leon didn’t feel
quite
that strongly, but if he wanted to answer an endless round of questions, he only had to go see his three-year-old daughter Mia. She asked so many questions that his wife Betha had sworn off having any more children. And Mia at least could be put down for a nap.

“He was hurt once,” Leon answered, hoping that would be enough. “Wat, please, just turn into a horse.”

“How?” Gabralina asked, and eyed Wat worriedly. “I thought they couldn’t get hurt.”

Leon sighed. His head was starting to throb. “He was torn through his body in his natural form by another battler. They’re very vulnerable in that form. He would have died if a healer sylph hadn’t saved him.”

“That’s terrible,” Gabralina whispered, teary eyed. “Won’t he get better?”

“No,” Leon said. “Can we get back on topic now? Please?”

She shook herself. “Okay. Wat, I’d love it if you were a horsie.”

He gazed at her adoringly. “Anything you want.” An instant later he was a chubby black horse, only without a white nose. Gabralina squealed in delight and started to direct him in how to perfect his form.

Leon left them and trudged over to Ril. He didn’t know if his battler had heard his name, but Ril was awake, rolled onto his belly with his legs tucked under him. Seeing Leon, he lunged to his feet.

Leon put a hand on the sylph’s warm neck. “That girl is going to be the death of me,” he muttered, pressing his face against soft hide. Ril whickered gently, and Leon looped an arm around his neck and relaxed, leaning against him.

When he was calm and paying attention, he could tell when Ril was drinking his energy. He could feel that sensation now: a faint pulling deep inside him that made his heart start to beat faster but otherwise wasn’t entirely uncomfortable. Ril didn’t take much. He couldn’t absorb as much as he used to, and even that had never been particularly noticeable. Leon didn’t know how the battlers could draw so little and do so much with it, but they did. What was just spare strength in him was everything for Ril, and so he stood there patiently, letting the contact be as easy as possible.

Eventually, Ril stepped away, his eyes brighter as he tossed his mane. He looked back at Leon and pawed at the dirt, clearly eager to be off.

“You and me both,” Leon said.

He stepped around to the left. Grabbing Ril’s mane with one hand, he levered himself onto the sylph’s back. Ril snorted but otherwise stood steady. “Tell me if this starts to bother you,” Leon cautioned him. They’d never tried this before, but neither of them had seen any horses for sale along their journey. Nor did they want to risk taking Wat and Gabralina into a town.

With hands on his neck, Leon turned Ril with gentle nudges of his knees. Ril obeyed willingly enough, though his tail flicked up periodically to smack his master. Leon had to smile. “Just imagine how sore my ass is going to be from sitting on your spine by the end of the day,” he assured the battler. Ril gave a horsey laugh.

They’d have to stick to back trails, he realized. Horses being ridden without bridles would be noticed. But as he looked up, he blanched. Gabralina was now proudly sitting sidesaddle on a tall, elegant, magnificently white horse that glowed from his silver hooves to his silken, ground-length mane—and to the point of the pearlescent spiral horn rising out of his forehead.

“Oh, for the love of the gods!” he snapped. His headache was back.

Lizzy huddled in a tiny cage in the bowels of the ship to which she’d been brought, seasick and terrified. Goats bleated in other cages while chickens clucked, all of them protesting the up-and-down motion of the ship, and also the darkness. Her abductors hadn’t even left a single lamp for her to see by. Crouched in a corner, she kept her arms wrapped around her knees and sobbed, unable to help it.

She’d never been so frightened in her life, not even when the battler that nearly killed Ril broke into the chamber where she and everyone else were hiding. She’d seen his mad eyes glaring right at her before Heyou tackled him, saving her life. She’d had nightmares of that moment for six years, afraid of the battler coming back. Whenever they became especially bad, she’d sneak out of her bed and across town to the chamber where the battle sylphs rested. They didn’t usually sleep, but they’d socialize in there, floating together in a great mass of intertwined clouds and light. Lizzy went there and slept in a corner, feeling safe under the weight of their silent protection. She wanted to be there now, wanted it so badly that it was an ache inside her.

“Ril,” she whimpered, wanting him to come to her rescue, but Ril was her father’s battler, not hers. “Daddy,” she whispered instead. “Oh, Daddy.”

The ship surged, riding up onto a wave, and Lizzy’s stomach heaved, though she had no food or water to bring up. Her captors fed her, but only once a day, and the water they brought her three times a day was already drunk. She’d tried not to swallow it all, but she’d been so thirsty that she hadn’t been able to help herself.

On the deck above, she distantly heard sailors hurrying back and forth, shouting to each other as they worked. Part of her wanted one of them to come down, just so she could see another person, but another part of her dreaded it. The men had been ordered not to rape her—an intact woman brought a better price on the block—but a few had looked as though they were willing to reimburse the captain for a shot at her.

Lizzy buried her face against her knees. She was going to be sold, turned into a slave for her blonde hair and her virginity, but most important, for her knowledge of the
battlers in Sylph Valley. The ship’s captain knew about them and how Solie had frightened the leaders of the world, and he was sure he could get a good price selling her for information. He wouldn’t have bothered otherwise, he’d told her grimly. He wouldn’t be able to revisit Para Dubh for a long time, thanks to their views on slavery, but it would be worth it for the coin she’d bring. A thousand gold pieces he’d ask for the secret of the battlers!

She wept, wishing she were home. Worst was, she knew the secret. She knew why the battlers in the Valley were so common and willing. No one was supposed to talk about it…but how could she expect to hide it if they tortured her?

The bars of her cage were cold. Finally, she knew how Ril had felt when she was a child, trapped as he’d been in the shape of a bird, not allowed to speak, not allowed to act, only able to communicate with her by pushing lettered blocks together to form words. He’d told her he loved her!

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