The man fell, both legs neatly broken, his Yellow Jewel drained.
Lucivar landed at the same moment the old stallion with the broken horn charged the downed man. *Wait!* he yelled as he threw a tight Red shield over the man.
The stallion screamed in rage and pivoted to face Lucivar.
*Wait,* Lucivar said again. *First I want answers.
The stallion snorted but stopped pawing the ground.
Keeping a watchful eye on the stallion, Lucivar dropped the shield. Applying a foot to a shoulder, he rolled the man over onto his back. 'This is a closed Territory,' he said harshly. 'Why are you here?'
'I don't have to answer to the likes of you.'
Brave words for a man with two broken legs. Stupid, but brave.
Using the Eyrien war blade, Lucivar pointed to the man's right knee and looked at the stallion. 'Once. Right there.'
The stallion reared and happily obliged.
'Shall we try this again?' Lucivar asked mildly once the man stopped screaming. 'The other knee or a hand next? Your choice.'
'You've no right to do this. When this is reported-'
Lucivar laughed. 'Reported to whom? And for what? You're an invader waging war on the rightful inhabitants of this island. Who's going to care what happens to you?'
'The Dark Council, that's who.' Sweat beaded the man's forehead as Lucivar fingered the war blade. 'You've no claim to this land.'
'Neither do you,' Lucivar said coldly.
'We've a claim, you bat-winged bastard. My Queen and five others were given this island as their new territory. We came here first to settle the territory boundaries and take care of any problems.'
'Like the race that's ruled this land for thousands of years? Yes, I can see how that might be a problem.'
'No one rules here. This is unclaimed land.'
'This is the unicorns' Territory,' Lucivar said fiercely.
'I hurt,' the man whined. 'I need a Healer.'
'They're all busy. Let's get back to something more interesting. The Dark Council has no right to hand out land, and they have no right to replace an established race who already has a claim.'
'Show me the signed land grant. My Queen has one, properly signed and sealed.'
Lucivar gritted his teeth. 'The unicorns rule here.'
The man rolled his head back and forth. 'Animals have no rights to the land. Only human claims are considered
legitimate. Anything that lives here now lives by the Queens' sufferance.'
'They're kindred,' Lucivar said, his voice roughened by feelings he didn't want to name. 'They're Blood.'
'Animals. Just animals. Get rid of the rogues, the rest might be useful.' The man whimpered. 'Hurt. Need a Healer.'
Lucivar took a step back. Took another. Oh, yes. Wouldn't the Terreillean bitch-Queens just love to ride around on unicorns? It wouldn't bother them in the least that the animals' spirits would have to be broken before they could do it. Wouldn't bother them at all.
Three glorious years of living in Kaeleer couldn't cleanse the 1,700 years he'd lived in Terreille. He tried very hard to put the past aside, but there were nights when he woke up shaking. He could control his mind for the most part, but his body still remembered all too well what a Ring of Obedience felt like and what it could do.
Swallowing hard, Lucivar licked his dry lips and looked at the old stallion. 'Start with the arms and legs. It'll take longer for him to die that way.'
Vanishing his war blade, he turned and walked away, ignoring the sound of hooves smashing bone, ignoring the screams.
Saetan stumbled over a severed arm and finally admitted he had to stop. Jaenelle's blood-tonic allowed him to tolerate, and enjoy, some daylight, but he still needed to rest during the hours when the sun was strongest. As the morning gave way to afternoon, he'd worked in the shade as much as possible, but that hadn't been enough to counteract the drain strong sunlight caused in a Guardian's body, and he couldn't take the strain of doing so much healing for so many hours.
He had to stop.
Except he couldn't until he found Jaenelle.
He'd tried everything he could think of to locate her. Nothing had worked. All Ladvarian could tell him was she' was here and she was crying, but neither Ladvarian nor Kaelas could give him the barest direction of where to
search. When he finally got Mistral to understand his concern, the stallion said, 'Her grief will not let us find her.'
Saetan rubbed his eyes and hoped his fatigue-fogged brain kept working long enough to get him to the camp Chaosti and Elan had set up. He was too tired, too drained. He was starting to see things.
Like the unicorn Queen standing in front of him, who looked like she was made of moonlight and mist, with dark eyes as old as the land.
It took him a minute to realize he could see through her.
'You're-'
*Gone,* said the caressing, feminine voice. *Gone long and long ago. And never gone. Come, High Lord. My Sister needs her sire now.*
Saetan followed her until they reached a circle of low, evenly spaced stones. In the center, a great stone horn rose up from the land. An old, deep power filled the circle. 'I can't go there,' Saetan said. 'This is a sacred place.' *An honored place,* she replied. *They are nearby. She grieves for what she could not save. You must make her see what she did save.*
The mare stepped into the circle. As she approached the great stone horn, she faded until she disappeared, but he still had the feeling that dark eyes as old as the land watched him.
The air shimmered on his right. A veil he hadn't known was there vanished. He walked toward the spot. And he found them.
The bastards had butchered Kaetien. They had cut off his legs, his tail, his genitals. They had sliced open his belly.
They had cut off his horn.
They had cut off his head.
But Kaetien's dark eyes still held a fiery intelligence.
Saetan's stomach rolled.
Kaetien was demon-dead in that mutilated body.
Jaenelle sat next to the stallion, leaning against the open belly. Tears trickled from her staring eyes. Her white-knuckled hands were wrapped around Kaetien's horn.
Saetan sank to his knees beside her. 'Witch-child?' he whispered.
Recognition came slowly. 'Papa? P-Papa?' She threw herself into his arms. The quiet tears became hysterical weeping. Kaetien's horn scraped his back as she clung to him.
'Oh, witch-child.' While he and the others had been searching for survivors, she'd been sitting there all day, locked in her pain.
'May the Darkness be merciful,' said a voice behind him.
Saetan looked over his shoulder, feeling every muscle as he turned his head. Lucivar. Living strength that could do what he could not.
Lucivar stared at Kaetien's head and shook himself.
Saetan listened to the swift conversations taking place on spear threads, but he was too tired to make sense out of them.
Lucivar dropped to one knee, took a handful of Jaenelle's blood-matted hair, and gently pulled her head away from Saetan's shoulder. 'Come on, Cat. You'll feel better once you've had a sip of this.' He pressed a large silver flask against her mouth.
