Heir to the Shadows

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.
    She choked and sputtered when the liquid went down her throat.
    "This time swallow it," Lucivar said. "This stuff does less harm to your stomach than it does to your lungs."
    "This stuff will melt your teeth," Jaenelle wheezed.
    "What did you give her?" Saetan demanded when she suddenly sagged in his arms.
    "A healthy dose of Khary's home brew. Hey!"
    Saetan found himself braced against Lucivar's chest. He concentrated on breathing for a minute. "Lucivar. You asked if I was strong enough for this. I'm not."
    A strong, warm hand stroked his head. "Hang on. Sun-dancer's coming. We'll get you to the camp. The girls will take care