Chapter 6
The sagryl stalked toward the mare. She raised her head as she scented the predator, a low whinny rippling out of her, the pain and fear mixed with exhaustion—I could almost feel it.
I ran with everything I had to get into range, so I had a clear, clean shot. The big cat would not give me a second chance. They were too fucking smart.
Sorrow cawed overhead, swooping down to grab at the riftcat’s wings. But the sagryl didn’t so much as flinch, its solid black, oversized eyes locked on the mare, ignoring both Sorrow’s and my presence.
An easy meal as she lay on her side, desperate to give birth. If she’d been on her feet, she’d have been a deadly opponent—but no doubt she’d die even on her feet at this point. The big cat was nearly as big as her, and without her herd with her…she was alone.
Normally the herd would have driven the cat off, I knew that. But she…was dying. The foal was stuck.
And so they left her, not out of malice, but...to save the others.
At thirty feet away, I slid to a stop, my bow raised and arrow notched, before my momentum slowed fully. The tension in the bow was there and gone as I sighted on the sagryl’s left eye.
Aim, pull, release, happened in less than three seconds.
The sagryl fucking sidestepped the arrow, swung its head toward me and bared its teeth in a snarl. “You know better than that, stupid girl.” It growled, speaking around massive fangs. “Leave me to my feast, even the rest of its family knows not to cross me.”
While most monsters couldn’t talk, there were exceptions and the sagryl was one of them.
“Call me stupid then.” I shot again, adjusting my aim for its sidestep. This time the arrow sunk into the sagryl’s left shoulder. It reached around with its mouth and snapped the shaft in half as if it were a minor inconvenience.
“Fine, I can have all three of you.” It growled.
“But can you take four?” The voice seemed to come out of nowhere, as if on the wind itself.
Deep, male, and it shook me to my bones, resonating in a way I didn’t understand but felt in every part of me.
The sagryl whipped its head around, ears pinning flat to its broad skull.
There in the shadows of the willow trees stood a figure cloaked in shadows, a blade in one hand, and the other…well the other was held out in front of him, flickers of blue and white spinning across his palm as if…
I braced as the wind picked up around us, pushing the sagryl back toward the seam. “Why aren’t you dead?” Snarled the sagryl, its eyes no longer on the mare, but locked on the mage. It flexed its body to face the newcomer, exposing its back to me.
Not smart. But I used the distraction to get closer and put myself between the mare and the riftcat.
“I am not so easy to kill, you should know that. Half breeds are…trouble.” The man seemed to be unbothered as he walked forward, his sword held loosely at his side, rolling the handle as if he were out for a stroll, his left hand spinning the wind that buffeted at the oversized cat.
I crouched and waited, slinging my bow over my shoulder. I could have shot my remaining arrows into the sagryl, but the wind would have made it difficult to be accurate—and that was if the arrows were effective. Shadowsteel would be better.
Watching the interplay between the riftcat and the newcomer, I waited for my moment.
The sagryl dug its claws into the ground, anchoring itself. “I will not be denied my meal.”
“Oh, I think you will.” The man drawled the words, not a single bit of fear in him. He was within twenty feet of the big cat. Well within leaping distance of the sagryl.
The cat dodged to the right, and the man moved with him, as smooth as the cat, and just as fast. Dropping his hand of magic, he spun the sword, blocking the slash of the cat’s iron strong claws. Sparks flew as the two clashed. Faster and faster, they went until their bodies were a blur.
I scooted back to the mare, and put a hand on her side, feeling the contractions rippling through her entire body. “Easy, beauty. We got this.”
Her deep violet eyes were ringed in white, a grunt blowing out as she bore down.
I didn’t dare fully take my eyes off the fight. The man could go down and then it would be me and the cat.
“Sagryl, this is tedious,” the man said. “I could kill you, but I’d rather not, even you have your place in this world.”
“Bastard, do not condescend me. I know that you are a monster, the same as I. I know you.” The sagryl tensed, its eyes flicked once to me, the muscles in its hind quarters flexing down the long length of its tail.
Clever beast, it had drawn the man in, closer and closer. Waiting for its moment to strike.
“The poison!” I yelled as the barbed tail, coated in venom, flicked toward the man.
He leapt sideways, and rolled out of the way, the splatter hissing against the bottom of his long cloak.
With him distracted what was left of the wind dropped and the cat sprung toward me and the mare, claws outstretched, wings tucked tight.
“Mine!” it roared.
I leaned back as I pulled not the falcata but the two daggers, turning the predator’s attack into its undoing. My body fell parallel to its lean underbelly. I drove the daggers up into the soft flesh as it went over my head, the momentum slicing it open from chest to asshole.
With my own snarl, I rolled at the last moment of contact, daggers hooked into its hips, and spun the body hard to the side, flipping it so most of the blood and guts missed me.
A drop of the tail venom landed on my right hand, burning the skin like a hot coal.
Hissing, I went to one knee, cupping my hand to myself. Yet in mere moments, the burn eased when I knew in my gut it should not have. There would be a scar from the poison.
The sagryl lay only a few feet from the mare, its body seemingly melting into the ground. She tried to get up, and fell back down, groaning.
“Easy, he’s dead now.”
Entrails spilled out around the sagryl, lacing the grass, as it gasped and tried to drag itself toward the seam, those void eyes looking at me, squinting, blood pouring from its lip as well as its belly as it locked on me. “Who are…?”
Eyes widening, the sagryl huffed what could only be called a laugh. “Ah, to see this play out. But no, death calls, but then…that is your middle name, isn’t it? Death’s daughter.”
Shock stopped me like nothing else could…of all the things in this world, this sagryl…knew me. “Who am I?”
A slow blink over those blacked out hollows. “You don’t know? Interesting. Save me, and I’ll tell you.”
Behind me the mare let out a pained, exhausted whinny—it had been too long, if the foal wasn’t born soon, they would both die.
I could ask the cat what he knew of me and find answers to who I was.
Or I could help the mare. I already knew I would help the mare and foal, but before I could say one way or another, the tip of a sword went straight through the beast’s skull, ending whatever suffering it might have endured.
“What the fuck?” Any hope I’d have had of asking it anything, was gone, the choice taken from me.
“Mercy,” the man said like it cost him nothing. While it had cost me the chance to ask the monster a question.
Anger burned in my gut. “Asshole.”
“Call me whatever you like.”
He crouched and turned his head my way, face hidden except for his lips which tightened as he took me in. “The mare, we need to save her.”
Much as he’d cost me my chance at answers, he wasn’t wrong. There wasn’t time to wonder if he was friend or foe.
A sharp nod of my head and I turned to see the tiny silver hooves of the unborn foal sticking out. “Hold just above the hooves, you pull, carefully, with each contraction, I’ll go to the mare’s head to steady her.”
Again, how the fuck did I know this? I shouldn’t—there were no memories—yet my hands moved anyway as if I’d done this before.
Not that it mattered. I moved around to the mare, knowing she would understand me.
“Can you stand? It will help.” I took a hold of either side of her head and pulled, lifting with her.
With a massive effort she got to her feet, though her legs splayed sideways as she shook and the contractions rippled harder yet, sweat dripping from her jawline, running over her eyes as if she’d been standing in the rain. I put one hand on the side of her neck, and the other on her belly.
I looked over her back to the cloaked man. “You have the hooves?”
“Yes.” He nodded and a contraction hit.
“Now.”
I steadied the mare as best I could. Taking hold of her jaw, I leaned back as the man pulled—this was not like foaling out a horse.
Veilrunners often got stuck in the birth canal.
It didn’t hurt that they were hardier, more like birthing cattle and often needed help.
They would seek out those they trusted, or they died.
It’s why so few were left.
Three more contractions, three more co-ordinated pulls and the foal slid out slick and heavy, the air filling with the scent of iron and milk.
Solid black as most were when they were born, and slippery as an eel it would be hard to help him stand. His true coat color would show up later, when he was full grown, his baby fuzz having fallen out near his yearling mark.
The mare stood with her head hanging low, sides heaving, I let her go to help with the foal.
“Clear the airway,” I hurried, but the foal’s nose and face were already cleared of the placenta.
A broad star sat in the middle of its head, a tiny silver nub protruding out, matching his hooves.
Big blue eyes blinked up at me, and it let out a soft whinny.
I did a quick check between the legs. “He needs to nurse. Now.”
“Agreed.” The man held the front end of the foal and helped me shimmy him around to duck under the mare’s belly. He had a hand on the colt’s nose and one on the mare’s udder, guiding them to one another.
“You…have done this before?”
His head didn’t turn back to me. “No.”
I frowned, my fingers buried deep in the thick, wet coat of the foal. “Then…”