Queen of the Sylphs

by L. J. McDonald

  She looked over her class. The children were all under the age of ten, none terribly interested in what she was trying to teach but required to sit there anyway. All children were obliged to attend school until they were at least twelve or proved they already knew what was needed. It was a rule unique to the Valley, and the children from other places weren’t used to being in the classroom. They fidgeted endlessly.

  “Quiet,” she ordered, tapping the board with her pointer. “Eighty-six plus four hundred and twelve. Who knows the answer?” She looked over all the silent faces. “Surely someone remembers this. We worked on it all last week. Come now. We’re not leaving until someone gets it.”

  Up near the ceiling came a shimmer, an air sylph taking on the translucent form of a young girl so that she could speak. “Four hundred and ninety-eight?” she asked, her voice a throaty whisper. The rule about education applied to the sylphs as well. In some ways, they were better students than the human children. In others, they were far worse. At least they didn’t squirm in their seats waiting for recess.

  Rachel beamed. “Excellent! Thank you, Current.” She tapped the board for the next question. “Three plus three hundred. Anyone?”

  A bell sounded. Immediately, the sylphs hovering around the ceiling and walls of the room were gone, and the children all broke for the door to join the mass exodus from the other classrooms. Lunchtime. Rachel sighed. So much for the great process of learning.

  She quietly set down her chalk and went to close the classroom door, and the sound of children galloping along wooden floors was immediately deadened, or most of it. She crossed the room to the last desk in the corner at the back of the class and crouched down, her knees protesting a bit, and looked up at the blue uniformed man who sat there, staring at his clasped hands on the desk. His hair was as blue as his uniform, and he looked to be a young man in his early twenties, but Rachel knew that was only an illusion.

  “You didn’t participate in class today,” she said in a gentle tone. “Why not, Claw?”

  The battler hunched down, his shoulders up around his ears. “I didn’t know the answers,” he said.

  Rachel smiled and set a wrinkled hand over his. “That’s why you’re here, sweetheart. So you can learn the answers.”

  Claw looked up, miserable and unconvinced.

  Rachel’s smile softened, and she reached out to lay her hand on his cheek instead. This battler had all the power of any other, but he was an emotional wreck. He had been for years, since long before she’d been asked to be his master. He’d been abused by his former master, used as a slave for decades like Mace, but unlike Mace he’d been broken by it. Claw had no faith in himself and a terrible fear that Rachel would decide he was useless and desert him. Telling him she’d never leave was useless. Claw wouldn’t believe her. He couldn’t.

  Wincing a little, she rose and unbuttoned her dress. Claw watched as she did, watched as she took the garment off and laid it gently over the back of a chair. She was old and fat and wrinkled, but he didn’t care. She was his master, and that was all that mattered to him. Someday, she hoped she could get him to understand that he mattered as well.

  She opened her arms.

  “Come here,” she called to him, and with a sound nearly like a sob, he did.

  By the time lunch was over, the classroom was returned to perfect order and Rachel was back at the blackboard. Claw answered two of the questions that afternoon, and to her mind that was a success.

  Solie stared breathlessly up at her lover, her hands clasped behind his neck and tangled in his long hair. Heyou grinned down at her.

  His skin was dry, unlike hers. Unless he thought of it he never sweated, and she was so used to it that she rarely noticed anymore. She didn’t now. Instead, she tugged on the back of his neck and Heyou sank down next to her, pressing soft lips against her mouth as he gently rocked against her. He could project his lust at her if he wanted, driving her absolutely wild and making their bodies desperate and violent, but this was in her mind more enjoyable. She felt more like a participant this way instead of just a passenger.

  For six years, Heyou had been her battler, her best friend, and her lover. Her dearest confidant. He remained the best thing to happen in her life. She still reacted to his touch with the same ardor she’d felt the first time, still loved his sometimes crazy company. His being gone for even a few days had left her lonely, and she’d pulled him into her room the moment he got back. Galway would be busy with his family for a while anyway.

  They rolled across the wide bed, Heyou pulling her up and over him so that her long red hair framed his face. She sat upright, his length still deep inside her as he reached to caress her breasts. Solie sighed, leaning back and baring her chest for him, staring without seeing at the stone ceiling. He stroked her nipples and she cried out, the fire he always brought building in her belly. She let it carry her along, the muscles in her thighs flexing as she rose up and down on him, biting her lip to keep herself from screaming.

  Not that it would matter if she did. The stone walls were too thick to let sound travel through, and even if it did, there was only a battler on duty outside. Even before the arrival of the assassins, three more of whom had already been captured, battlers were her guards. They were out there whenever Heyou made love to her. There was a battler wherever she went except for her toilet.

  Solie leaned back farther, spine arching, and cried out after all. The joy inside her exploded free, rushing as a wave through her entire body. Empathically linked, Heyou cried out too, stiffening and filling her, his own pleasure reflecting back and increasing her own.

  Sitting up, he wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck, kissing her gently. Solie relaxed against him, smiling, enjoying him just holding her. She loved him so much, loved everything about him. If there was one thing he couldn’t give her, she just had to live with it.

  Heyou knew something was bothering his queen. He couldn’t read her mind, not quite, but he could interpret her emotions thoroughly enough that it was the next best thing. Today, though, she was hiding it well.

  At first he’d thought it was the assassins. They’d picked up three more, finding them easily because of their hostility. All of them were locked up, waiting for Solie to decide what to do with them. But it wasn’t fear he felt now, which was what he would expect if the problem were the assassins. Instead he sensed sadness, a feeling of something missing. He didn’t know what to do about that.

  He would have asked her, but she was the queen. Battlers didn’t question queens. Moreover, he was afraid what the answer might be. Solie was everything to him. He didn’t want to take the slightest chance that he wasn’t everything to her in return.

  Gabralina and Sala walked hand in hand through the marketplace, Gabralina’s mission for eggs forgotten. Sala had been her best friend since childhood and the force behind all their plots and plans. Having her now in the Valley felt like everything was right again, and Gabralina couldn’t wait for her to meet Wat.

  “I was so worried about you,” she confessed. “When I was arrested, I didn’t know what happened. I thought you were in the house, but then they only took me, so I guess you left just before they got there. You’re so lucky.”

  Sala smiled, squeezing her hand as they walked. “No one bothered me. Thank you so much for not saying anything. You’re a true friend.” When Gabralina beamed, Sala added, “I wanted to help you, but there was nothing I could do.”

  “I know. It all turned out for the best, though.” Gabralina giggled. “I have Wat now! It would never have happened otherwise. It’s so wonderful. Everyone is nice here, too, and I have a job.”

  “A job!” Sala laughed. “That’s a bit of a drop from being a magistrate’s mistress.”

  “Maybe.” Gabralina shrugged. “But I was bored there a lot of the time, and he was old and fat. I get to take care of children here. I love it.”

  Sala smiled. “Whatever makes you happy, dearest.”

  They wand
ered through the busy morning crowds. Gabralina wanted to show her friend everything, hoping against hope that she would stay.

  A group of air and fire sylphs soared overhead. Sala was watching them in wonder, her eyes shining. “Is it true what you wrote about anyone being able to have a sylph here?”

  “Yes,” Gabralina said. “Well, they’re picky about who can have one, but it isn’t like back home in Yed. They don’t care how rich you are or anything.”

  “So, anyone can have a sylph?”

  Gabralina frowned, remembering what she’d been told when she first arrived. “Unless the sylph picks them, they have to be fairly old. At least, the women with the battlers are older. I’m not sure why. I think it has to do with them not being able to have babies or something. But the other kinds of sylphs have masters as young as me. I’m sure they’d love to give you one.”

  Sala smiled. “That sounds nice. I think I might ask for a sylph. It would be lovely to have a friend like that. To feel a bond and . . .”

  “Oh, it is,” Gabralina assured her. “It truly is.” It would be wonderful for Sala to have a sylph of her own. “Does this mean you’re staying?”

  “I was thinking of it. When I heard you were here, I had to come. It just wasn’t the same without you back in Yed.”

  Overjoyed, Gabralina hugged her. She would have stayed a simple field hand if Sala hadn’t found her so long ago and introduced her to the city, to all of the rich people who lived in it. And Sala was always so much fun.

  In the center of the marketplace, a roar suddenly sounded, echoed shortly thereafter by others. Both women jumped as cloud-shaped battlers descended, smoky shapes surrounding a screaming man in worn leathers.

  “What?” Sala gasped. “What’s going on?” She clung in horror to her friend.

  Gabralina held her just as tight, trying desperately to think. She’d heard Mace talking to the Widow about this earlier. She hadn’t really thought about it further, but she remembered now.

  “There are killers after the queen,” she explained. “The battlers have been trying to flush them out for a week.”

  “How?” Sala asked.

  Gabralina paused. What had Mace called it, evil intent? “They . . . they can tell when someone wants to do something bad.”

  “Oh,” Sala whispered, her face pale. Her eyes were bright.

  The market cleared. Both women watched as the battlers’ target was apprehended, smoky tendrils wrapping around him and lifting him up into the air. Gabralina wondered if Wat was among the group, but the sylphs’ lightning flashed much quicker than his ever did. They carried their captive away toward the underground, and Gabralina turned back to her friend, her heart pounding.

  “Sorry about that,” she said. “It’s normally very peaceful here.”

  “I’m glad,” Sala replied. “I don’t think I could take that much excitement on a regular basis.”

  The two shared a smile and they continued walking, here and there, just enjoying the day. It wasn’t until hours later that Gabralina remembered the eggs.

  Sala shivered, rubbing her arms.

  Her friend’s home was an underground apartment near the center of town. It was small and plain, just a front salon and a bedroom with a bathroom down the hall that Gabralina shared with everyone else on the floor. There were no windows, but a series of narrow slits in the ceiling let in daylight. It didn’t cost Gabralina anything, as earth sylphs made enough apartments for everyone in the Valley, but to Sala’s mind there wasn’t much encouragement for anyone to want to stay.

  That was probably the point, she decided, looking around at her friend’s tiny space. A small table and two chairs in the front room took up nearly half the area, and she’d already seen that the bedroom was mostly bed. Gabralina had offered this place for her to stay, but the minuteness of the apartment felt like it was closing in on her. It was a huge change from the plantation where Gabralina had been living as the mistress of one of the most powerful magistrates in Yed. That house had eighty rooms and forty servants. The magistrate had given her gowns and jewels and brought her into the highest circles of society. Naturally, Gabralina brought her oldest friend Sala along for the ride.

  Sala sighed, still processing how her friend’s life was reduced.

  Behind her, the door opened. She turned, expecting to see Gabralina, but instead she found the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. He was flawless, even more gorgeous than Gabralina herself.

  The man entered and stopped, staring at her. He was dressed in a blue uniform trimmed with gold, but for all his beauty and splendor his eyes were vapid. He blinked, his hand still on the door handle. He tilted his head to one side.

  “You feel funny,” he said.

  “Do I?”

  “Yeah.” His head tilted to the other side. “Are you in there?”

  “I would assume so . . .” She laughed. “Are you Gabby’s battle sylph?”

  “Gabby?” he repeated.

  Gabralina appeared, pushing through the door and against his back until he got out of the way and she could pass with an armful of blankets. Sala found herself backed into a corner, feeling more claustrophobic than ever.

  “Hi, Wat,” Gabralina said, beaming at him before putting the blankets on the table and turning to Sala. “Have you two introduced yourselves?”

  “We were about to,” Sala said.

  Wat glanced between his master and Sala, and he put his arms around Gabralina, staring at Sala as he did. “This is Gabralina,” he said, pronouncing her name slowly and carefully.

  Sala smiled as her blonde friend giggled. “I’ll remember that,” she said. Glancing at Gabralina she asked, “He’s a sweetheart. I have a few things to bring in. Can you tell him to obey me so I can ask him to bring them in? Some of them are heavy.”

  Gabralina shrugged. “Sure. Wat, obey Sala, okay?”

  “Okay,” he said.

  “Are all battle sylphs like this?” Sala asked. He was staring up at the ceiling for no reason she could determine.

  “Oh, no,” Gabralina said, leaning back against him. Her battler forgot whatever had drawn him to the ceiling and started to nibble on her neck. “Wat is unique.”

  Sala was somewhat glad to hear that.

  Chapter Four

  When the main settlement of Sylph Valley was first created, a lot of thought went into how it should be laid out. Buildings were planned that wouldn’t be needed for years, as well as an underground maze of apartments and storage areas that the town could retreat to in case of severe weather or attack. Every building that existed was thanks to the sylphs, from the huge warehouses to the single homes and cottages. Even the henhouses had been made by sylphs, shaped from the earth and rock itself.

  At the same time the sylphs built the rest, they made the land fertile again and brought in water for drinking and sanitation. Along with the buildings, they’d also put in greenery. Where earth sylphs were passionate about building, shaping rock as though it were merely clay, water sylphs were fascinated by things green and growing. Often with the help of masters who’d drawn them through the gate by being just as passionate about gardening, these sylphs helped restore life to the Shale Plains. In the town center, they took that passion further by creating elaborate gardens.

  Today, Solie didn’t see the elaborate, always-changing glory of the park, a pet project of three particular water sylphs and their masters, so beautiful that already it was being spoken of in other kingdoms and people were starting to travel to the Valley just to see it. Not caring about the explosion of endless colors or the rich scent of healthy earth, she sat on a wide stone bench, her head resting on Heyou’s shoulder. She watched a trio of small children play on an expanse of green grass, screaming and yelling. A young woman with a little baby sat on a bench directly across the grass from them, discreetly nursing her child. Back in the hamlet where Solie was born, everyone would have been disgusted with the woman for feeding her baby publically, but if anyone so much as looked at her f
unny in this place, Heyou would react. So would any of the other half-dozen battlers spread throughout the garden.

  Solie glanced around. They didn’t know for sure if they caught all the assassins yet, no matter how much she trusted her reading of the first. She hadn’t been able to take being locked inside and guarded anymore, but now that she was outside and guarded, she couldn’t stop herself from staring at the young mother and wished she hadn’t bothered.

  Heyou’s emotions spiked toward true alarm. “Why are you crying?” he asked.

  Solie put a hand to her cheek, surprised to find it wet. She stared for a moment at her hand, her head still resting on his shoulder. The fabric of his blue coat was scratchy under her skin.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said at last.

  Confusion washed through him, along with something else. She could feel it, a growing need to know. Heyou wasn’t the type to question, but she could feel it was going to happen anyway. Even as she cringed, she wondered how he waited so long.

  “You’re upset. You’re sad all the time. Why? It’s worse now. I don’t understand.” He glanced around, searching for something to attack, something from which she needed defense. Other battlers appeared, drawn along garden paths by his distress. Solie recognized Dillon, Claw, Hector, and Blue, and she hoped they wouldn’t come closer. She didn’t want their scrutiny. They thankfully held back, sensing her reluctance.

  Heyou was a very young battler, inexperienced and likely to defer to older battlers like Mace, even if he was the one who slept with the queen. He wasn’t stupid, though, and his gaze finally settled on the playing children and the mother with her baby. He couldn’t help but notice. Solie couldn’t stop staring.