The Sylph Hunter (22 page)

The winds were light once the storm passed. Well fed by everything in the stable, the Hunter floated along above the city, its tentacles grazing the ground. It watched the battlers gathering the breeding members of the local population, but they left a great deal of food for it and so it did nothing to stop them. Not particularly hungry or wanting to risk rising too high, it wandered along the periphery of the city itself, learning the layout and tugging itself along by grasping buildings with its tendrils. It tried not to cause too much damage to them; it wouldn’t do to have the battle sylphs or the food notice.

The local food wasn’t like the sylphs in many ways. The sylphs it could understand, hearing their mental voices quite easily and using that against them. The humans didn’t have mental voices for it to listen to. If they thought about something strongly, it could sort of pick it up, but its information about this world so far came from the sylphs. It was good enough. The human food creatures were as easy to devour as anything else, even if they did seem more aware of its existence than a sylph. That was the only alarming factor about this new hunting ground. Its greatest weapon was its invisibility and if a human saw it and told a battle sylph, they could end it. Its tentacles were largely indestructible and easily replaced, but its actual body? If the humans pointed it out, the battlers
would
end it.

It became obvious pretty quickly that wasn’t going to happen. The food in the stable clearly saw it, but no matter how the human screamed, no battle sylph had come through the storm for him. They ignored the food because it was male, it realized. It wasn’t hard to do so. It would have been able to figure that out even if it didn’t hear the battlers talk about only saving the females.

So it let them. It could distinguish between male and female patterns, so whenever it came across one during the day, with increasing rareness, the Hunter lifted its tendrils high and let them pass. Any male with them it also let pass. Soon enough, the battlers would gather them all together and then it could feed on the males left behind with impunity, for even if they managed to actually see it and realize what it was in time to react before it devoured them, the battlers would ignore their cries, at least until it occurred to them to use the humans to find it. Meanwhile, the males were gathering together into a single place, where feeding once the females were gone would be easy. It could graze for days or possibly even weeks before the food supply vanished, as long as it was careful to resist the urge to glut. Then, it could break into the hive and gorge on the females and sylphs the battlers thought they’d saved, afterward letting the winds carry it where they would in the hope they took it to more food.

Ten-foot-thick walls weren’t something it could pull apart with just its own strength, but its kind was intelligent and it knew there were a great many ways to crack open an egg.

The men of the hovels, all of them surviving by sharing their fires and their food, were understandably shocked. The battle sylphs had swept down on them only hours before, taking every female from infancy to old age. Left behind, the men and boys hadn’t known what to do, and like so many others in the city, they’d been working themselves into a froth of useless anger over it when Devon and Zalia arrived.

The appearance of a woman after they’d lost so many—as well as being a woman they knew—had more of an effect on them than it did on the other men they’d passed. Devon suspected that in a day or more, Zalia would draw the attention of every man who saw her, which wouldn’t necessarily be safe. These men were family though and they greeted her warmly.

“Zalia, dear Zalia!” one old man exclaimed, hugging her tightly. He was so thin Devon had to hide a wince, imagining his own elderly father that poor and gaunt. “We never expected to see you or your father again. Where is he?”

“My father is safe,” she promised, hugging him chastely for a moment before she stepped back and looked at them all. “Please, all of you have to listen to us. Everyone’s in great danger.” They looked at her worriedly and she turned to Devon, suddenly too shy to speak.

Devon took a deep breath and started to talk. He told them about the Hunter, about the damage it did in the feeder pens and the harbor, and how it was invisible, with only pools of blood from its victims left behind. He told them about the creation of the hive and the battle sylphs’ efforts to save what they considered the city’s most important resource.

“So there’s no room for any of us in this hive of theirs?” the old man who’d hugged Zalia asked.

“No, sir,” Devon told them and they murmured fearfully among themselves. “We can try to convince them to let us in, but that will have to come from within, not from us standing outside shouting about how unfair it is.” He looked at Zalia. “We need to assume that they aren’t going to let us in, no matter how much we hope that changes. We need to go somewhere else.”

“Where?” a younger man asked. He looked nervous, and as if he very badly wanted someone to tell him what to do. Devon knew just how he felt.

“We’ll go to the place where they used to keep the feeders and concubines,” Devon told them. “It’s underground and big enough for everyone. We need to spread out and gather as many people as we can convince to come, and more, all of us need to get as much food and water as possible before the battle sylphs find it all. It’s the only chance we have. If we don’t, we’ll either get eaten by the Hunter or starve to death.”

There was more murmuring. “You said the thing came out of the gate under the feeder pens,” the young man pointed out.

“I know,” Devon admitted. He didn’t like that little bit of reality either. “But the gate’s closed now and at least in there, it only has one direction to come at us from and we can block the entrance. I think this is the only chance we have.”

The men looked at each other uncertainly. Devon knew he was no great speaker, but in the end they agreed, because they had no other choice. Each of them would spread out, talk to as many other people as they could—who he hoped would have heard about the Hunter from the men Devon already talked to—and bring as much food and water as they could to the tunnels. If all went well, they’d be able to move from those tunnels to the hive itself before too much time passed.

As they headed out, bringing with them more food than Devon would have thought existed in the ramshackle little settlement, Zalia looked at him. “I wasn’t sure you’d be able to convince them,” she said. “Not to go to the feeder pens. They’ve always been considered foul by my people.”

He shrugged. “They want to live.” He reached out to take both her hands in his own again. It felt so nice to touch her and he didn’t want to let her go. In fact, he wanted to run his hands up her arms to her face, and feel those soft lips and delicate cheekbones. “I’ve been thinking. Once we’re set up in the tunnels, I think you’re going to have to go back to the hive. You’re the only one with a chance of convincing them to let us in.” If he could come up with a way to get her there that wouldn’t leave her exposed to the Hunter.

She bit her lip. “I can’t imagine anyone listening to me.”

He lifted one hand to cup her cheek. It was just as soft as he’d been hoping. “I can’t imagine anyone ignoring you. You’ll have those gates open while we’re still trying to figure out who sleeps where in the tunnels.”

Zalia shook her head, her eyes damp, and turned, pulling him to the hovel she’d shared with her father. Miraculously, it was still standing, its roof decidedly thinner and more battered than before. Devon wasn’t quite able to let himself think about what she wanted him in there for, until she dropped to her knees in one corner and dug into the sand, uncovering a package wrapped in oilcloth. Unwrapping it, she exposed a box of dried fruits and meats, as well as a round, hard cheese.

“Here,” she said, offering it to him. “You’ll need this.”

Devon lowered to his own knees beside her. “I don’t want to take you and your father’s food.”

“Take it. You need it and I don’t want the battlers to sniff it out.”

She held it out to him again, and this time Devon took it, his hands closing over her own around the box. Zalia looked down at them for a moment and then up at him, and Devon’s breath caught at the look of love in her eyes.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Z
alia found all of her petty insecurities burned away by the stress of the day. Given the danger everyone faced, the hundreds who could starve or be devoured, her emotions over losing her virginity seemed pretty pointless. Something had to be done, and she was with the man who was actually doing it. Devon Chole made her notice him from the first moment she saw him. Now he made her want to shiver, and he
included
her. Her opinion mattered, her help was invaluable, and he needed her. She was terrified of what she had to do, but the desire she felt was stronger than her fear.

They could die, she thought as she leaned over the box of food toward him. They could die so very easily and she wanted to be alive instead, with him, by choice, and know that whatever she felt with him came from within her.

Devon blinked at her as she leaned toward him, his hair ruffling madly for the first instant, and Zalia saw a flash of Airi’s gleeful face over his shoulder before the air sylph fled. Then Zalia was kissing him.

Devon’s mouth was warm and dry, his lips chapped. He gasped in surprise and she deepened the kiss, moving her mouth gently against his own. A moment later, he got over his shock and grabbed her, yanking her forcefully against him. The box of food got between them for a moment and she shoved it out of the way before wrapping her arms around his neck.

Even inside the hut, it was the hottest part of the day and his body burned against her, but somehow it wasn’t hot enough and she wanted more. She pressed her breasts and belly against his chest, and the pressure on her nipples was heavenly.

“Devon,” she whispered, not sure what she wanted to say but liking the sound of his name on her tongue.

He didn’t say anything in return, but his grip tightened around her, his hands working under the edge of her dress and pulling it up. She let him, lifting her arms above her head to make it easier for him to slip the shapeless thing off. For a moment he only looked at her, making her blush, but his eyes were wide with wonder at what he saw and when he lifted his gaze up to hers, her desire only burned hotter.

He stripped off his shirt and they reached for each other again, he dressed only in his pants and sandals, her only in the undergarment that was tied around her waist. His skin was far hotter bare and so pale, unlike anything she’d ever seen before. Her own skin stood out in marked contrast against it as she laid her hand on his chest and he covered it with his own before kissing her again. It didn’t seem there could ever be enough kissing.

Still kneeling in the gathered sand, they were pressed together as close as they could, her nipples hard against his chest, his length harder against her belly. She wanted him, didn’t think she’d ever wanted anything so much, and there was none of the overwhelming lust that One-Eleven filled her with. Just love, and desire, and trust.

“You’re so beautiful,” Devon whispered, his kisses moving to her ear as his hand stroked lightly down her ribs to the ties of her undergarment, which he tried to untie.

“No, I’m not,” she said, reaching down to help him with that knot before moving her own hands over to undo the buttons of his trousers. She’d never felt so daring or in control.

His eyes opened, a rich shade of brown she’d never seen before she met him. “Yes, you are. Don’t ever fool yourself into thinking that you aren’t.” He pushed her loosened undergarment down over her hips and sighed, his fingers caressing the curve of her buttocks. She sighed as well, sure he was wrong but not willing to argue it with him right now. Besides, at this moment she felt very beautiful indeed.

They lay together on the sand, kicking the rest of their undergarments off and never taking their gazes off each other, hands caressing each other’s faces and throats, moving down the other’s body to find the spots they liked.

“Devon,” she whispered, “please make love to me.”

“Yes,” he breathed. He shifted his hips closer, his rough worker’s hand stroking her hip and around it, encouraging her to lift her leg before he brought his hand back around and across her damp heat. Zalia cried out as he touched that soft, burning part of her, her stomach clenching and pleasure radiating outward through her. He kissed her then, swallowing the end of her cry, and angled himself, letting her feel the rounded head of his length before he held her hip more firmly and used it as leverage to push himself inside.

She cried out again, though this time there was no pain. Devon filled her, wonderfully, completely. He pulled out before pushing forward and deep inside her again. The length of him inside her felt as if it were the softest satin encasing the hardest steel, and she tentatively moved her own hips in counterpart to his own. She met each thrust, backed away from each sliding retreat, her own efforts taking him deeper than she could have imagined he would go, deep into a part of her that burned for more.

“Zalia,” he whispered again.

He rolled over onto his back, pulling Zalia up to kneel over him, her thighs straddling his hips. For a moment she felt exposed, her entire body wantonly displayed for him, but there was so much love in his eyes that her momentary fear didn’t last and her back arched in pleasure instead, her breasts jutting outward as her head tilted back, her hair trailing over his thighs as his slow thrusts reached even deeper into her, right against the part that burned the hottest, so deep within her she’d never known it existed before.

She flexed her hips, riding him there on the sand, and he reached up to caress her breasts, sending shocks of pleasure deep inside to where he strained to reach. Zalia cried out, the pleasure surging within her, and worked her thighs to ride him faster, wanting more, wanting this joy to keep increasing, even as it formed a knot inside her that begged to be released.

Below her, Devon gritted his teeth, his face twisted with pleasure. He squeezed her breasts and moved his hands to her hips, helping her to rise and drop, rise and drop, and force the storm within her to grow even more. Streamers of sweat were dripping off both of them and she didn’t care, didn’t care about anything but this joy that was building out of control and how she wanted to share it with him.

The pace increased. Devon had his feet braced against the ground now, lifting his hips and pumping them against her as hard as he could. She had her hands flat against his belly as well, pushing against him in counterpoint rhythm and the pleasure was so great it was almost pain. She whimpered endlessly and the sound of it made him groan in need, loving her even faster.

“I feel…” she gasped. “I feel you so deeply in me. It’s overwhelming!”

“Let it overwhelm you,” he managed. “Zalia, I love you so much!”

“I love you!” she cried and the pleasure became too much. It rose and crested and abruptly exploded throughout her, turning her voice into a shriek as every muscle in her body tightened, vibrating with utter joy. Devon cried out and she felt him stiffen as well, pushing up into her one last time and freezing in place, the length of him pulsing through her and sending her into another tumult of sheer ecstasy. A moment later, he collapsed back down again and she fell onto him, gasping against his shoulder while she listened to his deep breaths.

It took a long few minutes to get their breath back as they lay there, still entwined. Finally, Zalia lifted her head and looked at Devon, not knowing what to say to him but not regretting what they’d done. She felt alive and no matter what came later, she couldn’t regret it.

He looked at her evenly, reaching up one hand to cup her cheek. “When this is over,” he whispered to her, “will you be my wife?”

How could she be anything else? Zalia’s eyes filled with tears. “Yes,” she promised.

One-Eleven was starving and exhausted when he got back to the hive. He’d spent hours fighting his way through the storm, rescuing woman after woman, along with gathering all the food he could find. By the time the storm died and dawn came, he was close to shaking, but there was still so much to do. The women were frightened and hiding, running when they didn’t need to, and it took until well past midday before the flight could be sure they found them all.

The only thing he wanted to do was go to Zalia and take her to the queen, have her made his master so he could lose himself in her. He was so tired though that he wasn’t sure he had the strength to actually lift her that high, so he had to wait a little longer.

He carried his last rescued woman to the hive, bunching in the tight tunnel with several other battlers, and set her down in the great crowd that was gathered in the square just inside. There were a great deal of men just on the other side, not that he noticed them shouting, or noticed that many of them were starting to move away, following a call to their own safety. One-Eleven didn’t really care.

The only males not of his hive line that he’d deal with at all were the ones he looked for now, leaving the woman behind with a loving pat on the head while he listened absently to the conversations of the battlers around him.

There’d been no sign of the Hunter during the storm, he heard. A few of them hoped that it was killed by the high winds and wouldn’t bother them again.

Do you think that’s likely?
one of them asked.

Don’t be stupid,
another retorted.
It’s still around. I saw some men shouting this morning about their friends vanishing.

Did they see where it was?
someone else asked excitedly.

No, unfortunately. They just knew the other men were supposed to be behind them and then they were gone. There was blood, they said. I’ve seen a lot of blood in the streets today.

One-Eleven didn’t join in the conversation; spoken as it was down the hive lines, he didn’t have to be with anyone to hear them talk and he continued on his way, following his instincts to where a certain group of men waited. Not that they’d moved much from where he’d left them.

I think the males have figured out what’s going on. I saw them gathering.

Gathering? Gathering for what?

That pale man with the foreign sylph. He has them gathering in the feeder tunnels. It’s the same idea as our hive, I guess.

He managed to convince them?

Well, I guess even men aren’t so stupid that they won’t notice their own kind getting eaten all around them.

One-Eleven dived down, headed for a small building well past the square where the masters had been dancing, near the far edge of the hive wall. He really should have made them move closer, he thought.

How much food have we gathered?
Tooie asked over them all and a chorus of unsure answers came back.
Is it enough for everyone?
he pressed.

I don’t know,
someone admitted.
For a while. I don’t know how long.

We need to make the food last as long as we can. We have to reduce the number of people eating it.

There were shouts of protest at that, One-Eleven joining in as he swept through a window he’d broken before and into the building. In one of the inner rooms, five gaunt men sat in silence, their faces pinched and eyes stressed by old horrors. None of them reacted to his arrival, which was good. At least they still didn’t have their tongues and couldn’t give him orders. It was bad enough to be bound to the pathetic creatures in the first place, though that would change soon enough when Zalia was his master. Then he could see these ones killed.

A thought occurred to him.
How about we toss out all the men?
he sent along the hive lines to his fellow battlers.

There was some immediate agreement, but a lot of uncertainty at that.
Most of them are masters,
Tooie argued.
They’re needed to feed us.

So?
It was the most brilliant idea One-Eleven ever had.
We just brought in thousands of women. Bind them to all the sylphs who have male masters. Throw the men outside for the Hunter and the women left in here will have enough food, as well as sylphs to love, even if they can’t all have battlers.
Some would have to go to the elemental sylphs, he guessed. It wasn’t the best solution, but it was better than having men around.

The roar of approval was immediate and One-Eleven beamed in their response. It really was a brilliant idea and after long moments of arguing that One-Eleven certainly didn’t understand, Tooie was forced to go along with it.