The Sylph Hunter

by L. J. McDonald

  This flute is pretty, Airi said hopefully, still floating it through the air over his head. It was, as well as being larger than the one Devon had left behind in the hive, but he suspected he could manage to play it. Letting her continue to carry it, he looked back toward the arch that led into the feeder pens. Strange noises came from there as their small group of sylphs worked to turn the feeder pens into something that a human being would actually want to live in. Given that so many of the men down here were ex-feeders, Devon hoped that the results would be healing for them. From the look of the feeders he saw crowded around the entrance and watching, he suspected it just might be. He left them to it, too tired to even consider checking on their progress. They could do it without his supervision. Right now he needed sleep, food, a bath, and some time with his own sylph. For the moment, only three of those things were really possible, since he didn’t see a bath happening anytime soon, and despite his own weariness and hunger, he knew which of the three was most important to him.

  “Let’s play you a song,” he murmured and felt Airi’s joy as she cheered in his mind and swooped with the flute into the harem.

  As he’d figured, most of the alcoves were taken, many of which seemed to be inhabited by men who’d brought their sons along. Devon looked down the length of the room and could only see two alcoves with their curtains still pulled back and empty. They were on either side of an obviously claimed alcove, where a man sat against one of the jambs of the doorway, his foot up on the other jamb opposite him, his face obscured as he looked into the alcove. The alcoves to either side didn’t have belongings set down to mark their ownership, but Devon recognized Gel sitting outside one of the alcoves just beyond. Airi dancing above him, still spinning her flute in distracted happiness, Devon made his way through the crowd to join the man.

  “Hey,” he said to Gel, crouching down. “How are you feeling now?”

  The former feeder looked up at him, really making eye contact as he reached up to scratch his neck. “Shasha says this is the safest place now. I don’t want to leave.”

  “I guess it is,” Devon smiled, “and you don’t have to.” He gestured at the empty alcove beside him. “Has anyone taken this one?”

  Gel slowly looked at the alcove and finally shook his head. “No one wanted it.”

  “I guess it’s mine then.” Even when the feeder pens were converted, Devon doubted they’d be terribly comfortable, not unless they spread all these cushions around. At least now no one would say he was taking advantage of his new supposed authority, not with the alcove going unclaimed for this long. He sat down cross-legged in front of it and held up his hands. “Give it over, okay?”

  Immediately, Airi dropped the flute into his palms, squealing. Devon tested the holes, checking the balance as he thought about what he could play. Because the flute was larger than his, it likely had a deeper tone. It felt more suited to a somber piece, or perhaps that was just the way he felt after everything that had happened. Zalia taken, seeing the Hunter…What was he supposed to do now? Hide until it went away? Tell the battle sylphs he could see the thing and have them laugh at him? Or use him to hunt it? He, go to a battler deliberately? Unbidden, he remembered Heyou, who’d forced him into fatherhood and then into what was essentially exile. He couldn’t go back, and didn’t want to either, not now that he’d found Zalia; except she’d been taken by a battler, who could make her feel ecstasies no human man could match. How was he supposed to compete? How was he supposed to do anything?

  He put the flute to his mouth and blew, his lip vibrating as a song that was mournful and slow came out of him, detailing his sorrow and helplessness. Airi settled down, her emotions shifting to match his sadness, even as she was happy that he played for her. Gel stared at him, his mouth hanging open, while men nearby lifted their heads to listen.

  Devon played an aria of doubt. They couldn’t stay here forever, not here. Nor could they just expect the Hunter to go away as the sylphs obviously did. It would only go somewhere else and kill someone else, and there was no guarantee it wouldn’t come back. Meanwhile, the very foundation of their society was torn apart, families broken, and everyone was hiding and wondering, not knowing how their loved ones were.

  His fingers danced rapidly over the holes of the flute, changing the tune as he swirled down the scales. The Hunter would destroy them all; break them if it couldn’t devour them. The sylphs couldn’t see it, but humans could. Devon’s memory of the monster was haunting and horrible, a series of notes as low as the flute could go before climbing up to the highest in discordant triumph. The battle sylphs couldn’t kill it because they couldn’t see it. Men could, if they got close enough and lucky enough and it didn’t eat them first. He had to tell them.

  Sudden terror made him lose his mouth position and the flute fell silent. Devon lowered it, wishing beyond anything that Zalia was there with him, just so he could lay his head on her breast and not worry about the world for a while.

  That was beautiful, Airi said.

  “It was.”

  The comment came from beside him. Devon turned to see the man who’d been sitting in the doorway of his alcove, next to the empty one Devon had claimed. He was the man Devon had seen carrying an ancient woman into the hive, and Devon froze in terror at the sight of him while Airi squeaked above. Now he knew why the alcoves on either side of the creature had been left unclaimed.

  The battle sylph regarded him evenly for a moment before he looked up at the ceiling of the harem. He studied it for a moment and turned back to Devon again. “She liked your music. Play for her until I get back.” He leaned into the alcove, whispering something Devon couldn’t even pretend to hear, and finally stood and walked away. Men scrambled to clear his path as he left the harem.

  Do we have to live next to a battle sylph? Airi complained.

  Devon couldn’t answer her, too busy trying to get his lungs to take in air again after the shock. Battle sylphs. He just couldn’t handle battle sylphs, not at all.

  Still, something niggled at him. “Shasha said that the elemental sylphs weren’t listened to,” he said. “Right?”

  Usually, Airi agreed.

  “But battle sylphs are?”

  I think so. The ones who can blow the most stuff up usually are anyway.

  So that battle sylph could take word to the others about how men could see the Hunter. Devon had an image of being surrounded by the creatures, leading them into battle, and nearly fainted.

  A low whine sounded from the alcove the battler had been guarding, rising to a cry of despair and loneliness. Startled, Devon got up and walked over to see the woman the battler had carried in lying on the cushions, her face creased with distress. It was hard to imagine the ancient woman with the beautiful battle sylph, but it was obviously happening. She looked around desperately for the creature, her withered face damp with tears as she tried to push herself up and failed.

  Even if it hadn’t been a battle sylph who told him to play for her, Devon couldn’t leave anyone like that. Dropping to his knees, he brought the flute up to his lips again and resumed playing.

  This time he didn’t play of his own sorrow, not wanting to think about it. Instead he played a song about Zalia, and how deeply he loved her. The song nearly danced as it twirled through the air, forming an aria that sent Airi swirling up to the ceiling and had the old woman smiling by the end of it, her head bobbing nearly in tune. Again, men fell quiet in order to listen, while boys ran up and down excitedly, a few dancing in place, just being happy.

  For the moment, it was enough.

  Haru headed up to the surface, following Shasha’s summons. He’d hardly needed it. He’d felt the angry battle sylph up on the surface and recognized him. One-Eleven. Ignorant, immature, always thinking he was entitled but otherwise not thinking at all. Old though, older and larger than Haru by far.

  Haru went up the stairs as Shasha opened the way f
or him, climbing the curving stairs and feeling the other battler’s anger growing. He’d been denied what he wanted and he was going to punish the one he felt to be responsible for it. Haru didn’t know who that someone was, but he wasn’t going to let there be any killings in this new little hive of his. Not so long as he was guarding it.

  The last of the rock that blocked the stairwell parted, melting back into the original walls, and he saw One-Eleven step forward. One-Eleven started when he saw the other battler and Haru moved, forcing him to back up into the sunlight again. The sun was starting to go down but the sky was still clear, oddly empty without flying sylphs in it. Haru almost hesitated before leaving the safety of the stairwell, but he had no choice. The Hunter would kill him or it wouldn’t. The door was already closing behind him to make sure neither it nor One-Eleven got into the hive.

  “Hey,” he protested, trying to step past Haru. “I need to get in there!”

  Haru planted a palm on his chest and shoved him back. Surprised, One-Eleven stumbled away and looked at him, stunned.

  “What do you want?” Haru asked, though he already knew. He could feel the anger in the other sylph. He wanted to kill, and in all the years Haru knew him, One-Eleven wasn’t known to be subtle. He hadn’t even been usable as a guard, given how many men he killed for the slightest infraction. He’d worked solely in the human fields, reaping grain and guarding against anything that might try to taste the harvest.

  One-Eleven glared at him. “That ambassador. The pale man who came here. I’m going to kill him. He took my woman from me!”

  Of course it was him. Of course One-Eleven wanted to kill him. The one man who had the little hive behind Haru functioning and safe with a real leader. Who was currently sitting right beside Fareeda so she wouldn’t be alone. The irony of it all was immense, but even if it had been some other man One-Eleven was after, Haru wouldn’t have handed him over. The rules in this hive were unstated, but that didn’t make them any less obvious. Men weren’t expendable here. Haru had accepted that when he came, which made his response to the other sylph the only one he could give.

  He hit him, punching One-Eleven so hard that he fell back with a yelp, landing on his back on the stone of the square. Haru immediately went to his natural shape and attacked. For all his immaturity, One-Eleven was still the 111th battle sylph to be brought to Meridal when the last was numbered 702, and he was older than Haru by hundreds of years.

  That age made him fast. Despite not expecting the attack, he shifted to his own natural form and was airborne before Haru could reach him. Haru swept up after him, closing as fast as he could and lashing out with his tentacles. He didn’t want to kill his hive mate, just drive him away, and he used nonlethal attacks, hoping that One-Eleven would do the same. Otherwise, this could get fatal really fast.

  This hive is sacrosanct, Haru told him. You can’t kill anyone here!

  One-Eleven dodged around his attack, lashing out with his own tentacles and scoring painfully across Haru’s back. This isn’t a hive! he protested. It’s full of nothing but men! They’re worthless!

  They grappled, Haru still lashing out with as many tentacles as he could form, biting as well when he got the chance. One-Eleven roared, wincing back from the attacks, and then yanked away, shooting upward. Haru followed, grabbing the trailing end of One-Eleven’s mantle and being pulled along.

  Just leave! Haru shouted. I want you to leave!

  No! I’m going to kill him!

  They arced high over the city, the streets empty below them and the main hive rising above, with the queen’s palace floating overhead. Neither of them could see the Hunter that hovered between the two structures, watching them, and neither went within range of it, which would be within range of the queen’s dwelling as well. This was a fight between them alone.

  The queen gave leave to do whatever we wanted!

  Haru slammed a tentacle against One-Eleven’s side, the other grunting before he whipped his own across the smaller sylph’s back. It hurt, but he couldn’t both put up a shield and continue his own attack. One-Eleven hit him again and Haru realized he’d have to. Battle sylphs usually fought each other in groups, attacking other hives en masse. One-Eleven was too old for Haru to fight one-on-one; he would just take Haru apart. Haru brought up his shields, losing his grip in the process, and was knocked away.

  I’m allowed to do this, One-Eleven snarled.

  The queen never gave you permission to do murder.

  The two battlers circled each other, glaring. Haru hurt, more than he’d thought he would. One-Eleven had hit him a lot harder than he’d realized. In the backs of their minds, the hive line was screaming, battlers roaring and rising at the anger both of them felt.

  What’s going on? Tooie shouted. He appeared at the edge of the palace, rocketing straight toward them, a half-dozen other battle sylphs at the edge of his mantle. Why are you fighting? He sounded furious.

  One-Eleven turned toward him, the lightning inside his cloud body raging. He was big enough that all of them together might not have been able to take him, but his tone was slightly more polite, recognizing Tooie’s ascendency with the queen. He won’t let me in his so-called hive.

  Tooie slowed, his eyes swirling. He looked at Haru. Hive?

  Haru wearily looked back at Tooie, not wanting to fight his own brothers but prepared to. The queen gave me leave to take Fareeda where I felt she would be safest. Devon Chole has made a hive for the men. I brought her there. One-Eleven wants to kill him.

  He took my master from me! One-Eleven shouted. Once he’s dead, she’ll love me!

  Tooie’s angry emotions suddenly felt tired and Haru had to wonder just how worn out the lead battler was with all of them. He’d watched him try to council the queen, only to be ignored. He’d watched him try to lead on his own and had to agree it wasn’t working. If it had, Haru wouldn’t have had the need to take Fareeda away. Only these humans seemed to have the ability to succeed regardless of gender. The other battlers hovered around him, watching curiously.

  I think, Tooie said at last, that the queen will be asking for this Devon Chole at some point.

  But! One-Eleven protested.

  He lives, Tooie told him. I’m giving the order. He is to stay alive. None of us touch him, not unless the queen herself commands it, and I for one pray she doesn’t.

  One-Eleven reared above him, his hate aura flaring. He was larger than Tooie, but the other battlers reared up as well to match, Haru with them, and even though he still might have won, One-Eleven pulled back. It’s not fair! She’s mine! You can’t say he’s more important than me!

  Tooie snarled at him. If you can’t even manage to name yourself, you don’t get to say who’s most important. I told you to talk to the woman. You think you’ll win her by killing any man she likes? You’re an idiot!

  One-Eleven shrank into himself, still outraged. What would you do if it was the queen? What if she decided she loved someone else?

  I’d let her go, and grieve. Leave the human alone. Tooie turned away from him and looked at Haru. You’re hurt. A healer should see you.

  Haru pulled back. He could feel Fareeda in the back of his mind, missing him and stressed by his absence. I won’t leave this hive.

  Fine. Just don’t treat your brothers as enemies.

  Haru bowed in acknowledgment, his mantle aching. He would heal, but it would take time. He would have lost this battle if Tooie hadn’t come, he realized. Shamed, he returned to the hive, calling on Shasha to let him in. All he wanted was to see Fareeda, and this Devon Chole, and reassure himself that the man was worth all of this.

  Tooie turned to One-Eleven. Don’t fight anymore.

  One-Eleven focused angry eyes on him, his mouth gaping with lightning. What am I supposed to do? I want her to be mine!

  Tooie sighed, turning away with Yahe and the others. The queen was calling along the
hive line, asking inexpertly what was happening. He just wanted to get back to her, and remind her of this man Devon Chole, who’d gathered hundreds of men and given them a place to survive. He could feel them gathered under the ground, and while many of them were unhappy and angered, they were overall more content than the women still panicking in the main hive.

  I keep telling you, One-Eleven, Tooie said. Talk to her. Be her friend before you try to be her lover. Be someone she can rely on for once.

  He led the way back, trusting One-Eleven to at least obey him about not killing anyone, the other battlers of the Circle flanking him as he arced high over the palace to enter through one of the skylights.

  One-Eleven watched them go, Tooie and the others entering the palace while Haru limped back into the hive below them. He hovered in midair, staring after them all.

  But I don’t know what to say, he whispered.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Cautiously, the Hunter watched the two battlers fight, not liking it. Its tentacles were largely expendable if they decided to start tossing energy blasts around, but they were flying fairly high, much higher than they did when they looked for it. It would be disastrous if they hit its actual body with one, or stumbled into it and realized what it was. It could only feed with its tentacles, not its gas bag, and it couldn’t raise its tentacles quickly enough to protect itself. Already it had spent much of the afternoon raising even the lightest of them to reach the palace. They clung to the underside as it watched the fight, waiting.

  Its patience was rewarded as more battlers came out and the fight ended. It waited until all of them were gone, even the last straggler returning to the palace, before it started its work again, feeling patiently along the underside of the palace for all the myriad ways there were to get inside.