Free The Shattered Sylph by L. J. McDonald

startled exclamation from the sitting room, and his wife of twenty-five years appeared, clad in a rumpled dress with her hair half-fallen out of its bun, eyes red-rimmed and glassy. They saw each other and crashed together, both of them crying and hugging each other until it was painful. Footsteps sounded from the second floor, and the other girls came racing downstairs in their nightgowns, calling for their father.
    Cara was twelve, her curly hair down from its usual pigtails. Behind her scrambled nine-year-old Nali, with dark hair like her mother’s, her eyes filled with tears. Behind her and leading the three-year-old Mia came seven-year-old Ralad, already weeping but determined to be responsible. Hanging on to her hand, Mia babbled questions Leon didn’t know how to answer.
    Still holding his wife, Leon sank to his knees, pulling her down with him and reaching out an arm for his girls. They crowded against him, bawling, and Leon wept, too, wishing he’d never been so foolish as to leave home.
    Underneath the town, wrapped by the energy of another battler and floating within him like some sort of unborn child, Ril maintained his natural shape and slept.
    And sleeping, he dreamed.

Chapter Six
    Feeling both rested and hungry, Ril came awake as Luck shifted him back into his human form. He sat on the floor while she scanned him intently and then, satisfied with what she saw, patted him on the head and left. Glancing up at the battler who’d held him all night, Ril nodded his thanks. Dillon’s reply came back, a wordless welcome.
    His hunger not unlike a man’s for food, Ril stood and walked out of the room, yawning. Nearby, battlers wandered in and out of the queen’s audience hall, all of them dressed in blue and gold, and Ril looked down at his travel-stained clothing before ducking into the next chamber, one layered with dozens of cubbies. His own space was near the door, specifically chosen at a level easy for him to reach.
    He retrieved and put on his blue and gold pants and white shirt, the blue and gold coat over top. This uniform had been Solie’s idea, so that anyone who didn’t know their faces would be aware whenever they were dealing with a battler—there had been a few accidents early on. The clothes felt stiff and formal, but he’d never intentionally have been seen in town without them. He was a battler, no matter what anyone might think or whisper.
    Ril straightened proudly as he did up the buttons on the coat, and then he made his way to the surface, his thoughts not much farther-reaching than finding breakfast—or perhaps lunch, he realized as he saw the sun already high in the sky. Some people found it odd that sylphs used suchterms for feeding from their masters, but what other words were they supposed to use for it?
    Walking down the sidewalk, humans parting to let him pass, he headed to Leon’s house. He could tell where his master was at all times, though he didn’t always bother to focus on what the man was feeling. But right now—Ril frowned—Leon felt upset. Very upset. Almost hysterical.
    Ril sped up, and before he even realized it, he was running, nervous humans ducking frantically out of the way. Above, other battlers roared, picking up on the distress that was being fed to him via his master, and every sylph outside vanished, many of them taking their masters with them. Not that Ril noticed. He soon took Leon’s porch stairs with a single bound and crashed through the house’s front door. It flew off its hinges, slamming into the wall as Leon appeared in the doorway at the end of the hall, a knife in hand. He was bare chested and unshaven, his eyes wild and bloodshot. Ril hadn’t seen him look so bad since the day he was nearly hanged, and he skidded to a halt before his master, staring. Behind Leon, Betha and the youngest girls sat around the kitchen table, all of them still in their nightclothes.
    Ril stared. “What’s wrong?”
    Leon swallowed heavily, choked, and let the