“Yes, my queen.”
“Good.” She kissed the end of his nose and smiled. “I can’t be your queen if you leave me.”
“Then I’ll never leave,” he promised. “Not ever.”
For once in his life, Leon was in perfect agreement with his battle sylph: Jasar Doliard really needed to die. And even though he was the man’s battler, Leon suspected that Mace would agree.
Busy trying to follow tracks through the heavy woods, Leon kept his eyes focused on the ground and tried really hard to ignore the man riding behind him. It was next to impossible. Jasar whined nonstop. He wanted to take breaks, he wanted to ride slower, he wanted to ride faster, he wanted cooked meals, he wanted quick snacks. He wanted to stop well before dusk and go again long after dawn. If it weren’t for Mace, Leon would have gutted him long ago and buried the body.
He even yelled at his battler, berating Mace constantly, which struck Leon as one of the stupidest things anyone could ever do. A battler at the best of times radiated an aura of hate that was draining to everyone around them. A pissed-off battler was a thousand times worse. Mace walked behind them, leading the packhorse and exuding a loathing strong enough to nearly wilt leaves. Leon had a desperate headache from it, and even Ril seemed affected. They were only on the second day of their travel and were still stuck in the woods, trying to track a battler in human form. It should have been easy, but Leon was in so much pain he could barely focus. The battler had been picked up by someone on horseback—he’d been able to figure that much out—but he couldn’t figure out who would. It didn’t make any sense, but he was sure he was following the right track.
They headed north, toward a rough town that serviced the trappers and lumbermen that worked the area. The battler had to have hooked up with one of those. But why would he? How badly hurt was he?
Behind him, Jasar was shrieking something at his battler about having a smaller penis, which was so absurd that Leon finally spun, nearly shaking Ril off his shoulder. The battler dug hard into his shoulder guard, making Leon wince and souring his mood ever further.
“Will you stop it?” he shouted. “I doubt your battler even has a dick! Stop comparing it to your own!”
Jasar’s face tightened, his anger obvious. Mace walked past both humans, sullenly leading the packhorse.
“You don’t know anything,” the dandy told Leon coldly.
“I know you’re driving me insane. Stop angering Mace. He’s giving me a headache.”
“Can’t take it?” Jasar sneered. “So much for the king’s head of security. Can’t even take a little battler hate.”
Leon shook his head in amazement. “How did you ever get a battler? I’m amazed no one smothered you in your crib.”
“You better make sure no one stabs you in your sleep,” the courtier retorted.
Leon snarled, and Ril screamed from his shoulder. He knew his battler had little fondness for him, but the sylph definitely seemed to hate Jasar more. Leon actually felt sorry for Mace, and so angry he didn’t care what he said to Jasar. The dandy couldn’t do much to him, anyway, not with Ril around.
“You are an idiot,” Leon snapped. “And a sick bastard. I bet you enjoyed killing that woman to get Mace in the first place.”
“And you didn’t? I bet you loved it.”
“I still have nightmares! I never would have done it if I’d had any choice!” Leon shouted. “But
you
got sent out here
to make my life hell because you can’t get enough of killing women!” He’d heard about the girl, beaten for whatever twisted reason Jasar had contrived to kill someone who couldn’t defend herself. He’d never met such a coward. Even having Mace he was one, and a bully besides.
“Shut up!” Jasar shouted. His battler kept walking, never looking back. “Mace! Get back here!”
Turning, the battler returned, bringing with him his loathing.
Two hours later they reached the town, and even though it was only midafternoon, Leon was glad of the chance to stop. His head was pounding worse than ever, and his stomach felt sour. He missed his family so badly he felt ill, and he truly wanted to kill his companion.
Jasar was distinctly happy to see the town, not that anyone in it was happy to see him. The two battlers were in such a foul mood they cleared the streets before they were even within sight of the place, and Leon and Jasar rode down empty streets to the only place of lodging.
“They call this an inn?” Jasar said in disgust.
Leon ignored him, dismounting from his horse and carrying Ril inside. Men who had been hiding inside stared in horror as he entered and pointed at the barkeep. “I want a room as far away from that asshole outside as you can get me, and someone to take care of my horse. I want food as well, in my room. Now.” He stomped wearily toward the stairs, and a frightened woman in an apron scurried ahead to lead the way.
“F-follow me,” she stammered, holding up her skirts as she climbed.
Leon followed. She was a pretty young thing, a little thin but kind faced. Right now, she also looked terrified, shooting looks back over her shoulder at Ril.
He glanced at the battler. “You’re scaring her.” One
golden eye turned toward Leon and the hate faded, at least from him. Mace was still in a cranky mood, but he was outside, and the girl relaxed a bit, staring at Leon with wide eyes.
“He obeys you?” she gasped.
“He does when I give him no choice,” Leon admitted. The girl giggled and coughed, trying to look demure again. Ril tilted his head to one side and Leon had to stifle a laugh. At least his headache was fading.
The girl led him to a room at the end of a hall. It was a plain chamber, clean and serviceable. She went to open the window, and Leon settled Ril on the back of a chair. The battler watched, his aura now as calm as when he was around the Petrule family. The girl turned to see him watching her and she started, but there was no real fear there.
“Not so scary, is he?” Leon asked. He stepped forward and handed over a penny. “For your time.” He paused, his fingers still holding the coin in her palm. “My companion, the one with the big battler: warn your friends to avoid him. He’s very…unkind.”
The girl blinked and curtsied. “Thank you for the warning, my lord.”
“I’m not a lord. But he is.” Leon looked at Ril again. “If the man…pushes any issue, tell your friends to shout the name Ril as loudly as they can. Help will come.” He looked straight at the battler. “Understood?”
“Yes, my lord,” the girl said, and the bird nodded once.
Leon sent her out and sat heavily on the bed, resting for a moment before he pulled off his boots and set them aside. They were scuffed. He’d have to polish them again to keep them waterproof. He wanted to check his gear as well and make sure everything was fine. He didn’t trust his usual thoroughness when he’d been subjected to the muddling auras of the recent journey.
“No hate?” he asked Ril. “I figured you’d let me have it
once she was gone.” He lifted his head and glanced at the battler. The bird stared back at him with one golden eye, unblinking.
“What? You hate Jasar so much now that I’m looking better by comparison?”
The battler blinked once.
“Is that a yes?” Leon ran a hand through his hair, then muttered, “I must be tired if I’m asking questions you can’t answer.”
He thought of the battler they were tracking, who was allowed to speak—his female master didn’t know to order him against it. Leon looked at Ril again. “How the hell did that happen anyway? I know you can’t answer, I’m just thinking aloud. How did a woman end up with a battler, when it takes a woman dying to bring you bastards over? Why do you like women so much if you won’t be bound by anything less than their deaths?”
Ril hit him with a blast of hate so strong that Leon flinched back with a cry of pain. The battler was shrieking at him, he realized, screaming so loud that the window threatened to break. Somewhere in the inn, Jasar screamed for Ril to shut up before he sent Mace after them.
Leon lay on his back across the bed, pressing both hands to his forehead to try and hold in the massive migraine. Ril had never done that before. Leon hadn’t even known he could hit that hard. The battler was furious, though, and slowly Leon forced himself upright, peering at the bird through the spots the headache was causing in his vision. He’d always wanted Ril’s affection and had thought sometimes he had it, in those moments when Ril seemed to forget that he was supposed to hate him. But this put the lie to any hope he’d had for that, and Leon felt a real grief in his heart at the thought.
Masters bonded to their sylphs as much as sylphs did to them, he knew, becoming in some ways closer to them than
their own wives. Battle sylphs were supposed to be different, but he’d always known that wasn’t true. Their masters just pretended it was, because of the hate and the deep sorrow it brought. At least, it brought sorrow to Leon to know that Ril hated him.
“What did I say to piss you off so badly?” he whispered.
Wings spread, Ril clung to the chair and hissed.
A faint, frightened knock sounded at the door. “M-my lord?” a female voice called. “I brought your meal.”
Leon sighed. Ril had never given him any answers about anything. “Come in,” he called.
The door opened, and the same serving girl peered in. As Ril suppressed his hate, she entered, carrying a plate and mug on a tray. She placed this on the table and laid everything out before turning and curtsying, her head down. “Mmy Lord? My father runs the inn. He wanted me to ask how to calm the other battler down. He’s in the stable, but he’s frightening everyone.”
It was just like Jasar to leave his battler outside and himself open to assassination. Leon just wished someone would take him up on it. “What’s your name, miss?” he asked.
“Sally, my lord.”
He walked over and took both of her hands in his own. “Well, Sally, if you want Mace to calm down, wait until his master is in his room and then go up to Mace and tell him he’s frightening you. I bet he’ll stop.”
“M-me, my lord?”
“Only you. Not your father, not your brothers. You.” He stood and walked toward the food.
“Thank you, my lord.”
As Sally fled, Leon sat down to his meal, deciding to let everything else wait until later.
His suggestion in mind, Sally went outside and around to the stables, her apron twisted in her hands. Her father had
immediately latched on to the direction that
she
go, as none of the others wanted to, and no one dared face the sylph’s master. He’d thrown his meal at another serving girl, and they didn’t know what they were going to feed him. She just felt lucky that she’d been assigned to the nice one. If only she didn’t need to do this, too.
The hate coming from the stable was palpable, and it took all of her courage and fear of her father’s switch for her to step inside. “Mr. Mace?” she whispered.
To her surprise, the hate turned off instantly.
Sally moved forward, nervous, intending to explain, just in case it was necessary. “Mr. Mace?”
The battle sylph stepped out of the shadows in an open stall to look at her, and she swallowed. He was huge, his eyes pinpoint lights glowing out of his helm. But without the hatred, he wasn’t nearly as frightening. She pressed a hand against her breast and swallowed.
“My—my father asks that you not frighten us. I…you frightened me. Will you stop?”
Silently the creature nodded, and Sally exhaled, trembling. “Thank you,” she breathed, then left, shaken for reasons that had nothing to do with fear.
She returned to the inn, still trembling, and finished her duties. But after everyone else had gone to bed, she returned to the stable, and didn’t go back inside until shortly before dawn.
Stria the earth sylph worked furiously, drawing up the ground and flattening it, propelling along through this mad cycle the slab of stone holding Cal’s wagon and horses. The contraption raced at a tremendous thirty miles an hour, making the terrified riders cling to the wagon and forcing them to blindfold the hysterical horses.
Solie wailed in fear, clinging to the hand of Heyou in the back of the wagon. It was for him that they moved so fast,
leaving a trail of ridged earth behind them as they moved, Airi fighting to keep the wind from blowing them off their platform. The earth sylph was much older, much stronger, and Airi trembled as she worked, the other sylph’s quiet encouragement all that kept her from giving in to exhaustion. They’d been traveling this way since dawn, when Solie woke to find Heyou had nearly died during the night.
In the wagon, he could hear them speak, could feel the fear of the men and his own queen’s terror. He couldn’t rise, though. His energy levels had dropped too far for that, and he didn’t have the strength to draw any more from Solie. He could only lie still and gasp, feeling himself slowly fail. Solie begged him to fight, but it was an order he couldn’t obey. Ril had been far too precise with his blow.
She brushed some of his hair out of his face, the soft hair he’d made to please her. He gloried at her touch even as he grieved. He hadn’t even been able to love her, to create that final link that would truly make her a queen of his hive line. He was a failure of a battle sylph, losing his first fight. He wasn’t worthy of her.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
She shook her head frantically. “Don’t give up,” she ordered him. “We’re nearly there.”
“I think we
are
there,” Galway corrected, hanging on to the side of the wagon right beside them.
Solie straightened. The mountains had leaped in size as the group flew across the plains toward them, becoming tall peaks and cliffs. Straight ahead was a bluff, the edge that faced them sharp and perfectly straight, sheared off by some force she couldn’t imagine. Stria was turning the wagon, though, propelling it around the hill toward the back. There, the sides were the easier slope of a regular hill, if covered in short, scraggly bushes and rock. A rutted switchback road led up it, shadowed by the hills and mountains behind.
In the flat stretches immediately around the strange hill, livestock grazed on bales of hay. Horses were tethered to long lines, while cattle and sheep were watched over by men huddled in cloaks against the cold and wind.
Stria continued to rocket the wagon along, passing frightened animals and their shocked tenders. Solie gawked at them as they shrank into the distance behind them, even though some of them gave chase.