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He let out a howl as the hunter’s claws—all four sets—dug into his shoulder, side, and thigh. Vale echoed with a scream of his own as the hunter’s hindleg lost purchase and dug into the horse’s shoulder instead. The hunter’s long, snapping jaws grazed Gabriel’s cheek as he jerked his shoulder up, hunching to protect his vulnerable neck. The hunter coiled to try again—and Gabriel twisted in the saddle, bringing his left biceps up into the jaws and shoving his right hand beneath, driving the dagger straight into the beast’s heart.
As Dary’s tormentor had back on the dock, it dissolved, falling away in shreds of flesh and stinking smoke—nearly taking the silver dagger with it in the dragging plummet. Vale was already wheeling, rearing onto his hind legs and striking out at the intact hunter on the other side. Not even stunned by Gabriel’s desperation strike with the sword, the hunter lunged upright, spinning the sharp wheels and going after the horse’s vulnerable hind legs.
Worse, the first two hunters caught up then, confirming that a physical blow, no matter how deadly, only slowed them down. The one seemed oblivious to its smashed skull, and the other dragged its gory halves with determined malice. Only the enchanted dagger seemed to dispatch them permanently—and Gabriel couldn’t use it from Vale’s back.
Kicking free of the stirrups, he vaulted to the ground and square onto the back of the hunter trying to hamstring Vale. With its back turned, it made for a decent target, missing its lethal swing to sweep a shallow slice across Vale’s haunch as the horse spun to deflect—then collapsing when Gabriel buried the silver dagger in its back.
Yanking the blade free, Gabriel turned to face the other two just as the crushed skull hunter tackled him. It buried its teeth in Gabriel’s shoulder—fortunately missing his throat by the width of two fingers. Unfortunately, it had pinned Gabriel’s dagger hand between them, and he couldn’t turn the blade. He had the sword still in his left hand, so he brought it in to drive the hilt hard against the hunter’s snout, wrenching it off his shoulder. Rolling with the momentum, he followed it around, dragging the dagger hand free and shoving it up into the underside of the thing’s jaw.
Behind him, Vale shrieked in equine agony, and Gabriel lurched up, bracing against the dizziness as his head spun. Hopefully just from pain and magic work—not blood loss. The ragged mess of the cleaved hunter had a grip on Vale’s hind fetlock. Not a strong one with its mismatched jaws, but Vale was hopping and cow-kicking in such a frenzy that Gabriel couldn’t get near to help him.
Instead Gabriel spun to spot the lead hunter, standing calmly on all fours—on top of Veronica’s prone body—with its jaws clamped over her throat above the metal collar. She strained away from it, chin stretched high as possible, an expression of revulsion contorting her face. Rolling her eyes toward Gabriel, she fixed him with an angry and defiant glare.
The lead hunter stretched its lips in a grin, exposing its sharp teeth, just in case Gabriel wasn’t bright enough to understand its victim’s peril. “Drop your weaponss, wissard,” it snarled, its words no more distorted than usual for all that it had its teeth clamped to Veronica’s throat. “Or your familiar diesss.”
Behind him, Vale was stomping and snorting—hopefully trampling his attacker. Subtly, Gabriel changed his grip on the silver dagger. It wasn’t exactly the right heft for throwing—and if he missed, he’d be reduced to scrabbling through the tangle of grasses to find it again—but all he had to do was hit it somewhere. It didn’t need to be a killing strike, just enough for the enchantment to work.
“I mean it, wissard,” the hunter hissed, tightening its jaws so that Veronica choked, a pitiful whimper escaping her as she strained for breath. Her gaze had softened, pleading with him. Gabriel dropped the sword.
And threw the dagger.
It hit the hunter’s flank with a sidewaysthunk, dropping away again, but the thing sent up an unholy screech as if burned with fire. Releasing its hold on Veronica’s throat, it convulsed, spine arching in agony. Gabriel hurled himself forward, skidding flat out onto his belly as he reached for the fallen knife. The hunter lunged, snarling, and he punched it in the muzzle with his left fist. His right hand closed on the dagger, and he buried it in the hunter’s shoulder, shouting in triumphant relief when it exploded into chunks of goo—unfortunately all over Veronica, who gagged, yanking her face away.
Much as he wanted to help her immediately, Veronica was no longer in danger—except maybe of being thoroughly sick—and Vale might be. Seizing the dagger, Gabriel staggered to his feet to find Vale indeed trampling the hunter to a pulp. It took him a moment to calm the horse enough to back him off his enemy, but Gabriel managed, then plunged the dagger into the steaming, broken body. Just in case.
He knelt there a moment, drained beyond belief, then crawled back to Veronica. Rolling her away from the bulk of the hunter’s remains, he used the blade to cut the rope binding her hands, then helped her sit up.
“Are you hurt?” he asked.
She spat something unsavory from her lips. “No. Though it was a near thing—you almost got me killed.”
“It had orders to bring you back intact,” he said, setting the precious silver blade beside him and feeling around the metal collar for the catch. “I knew it wouldn’t hurt you. Lift your chin.”
“Don’t bother. It’s magically locked. You won’t get it off without a wizard from House Iblis.”
Sure enough, the catch on the collar had sealed itself, feeling completely inert. With study—maybe with careful application of the dagger—he might be able to get it off of her, but now wasn’t the time or place. He ran his fingers over the indentations on her formerly flawless skin from the hunter’s teeth. “You’ll have bruises.”
She jerked away from his touch. “I’m hurt less than you are, if disgustingly filthy.”
“I have stuff to clean up with,” he told her. “Wait here.”
“Really? I thought I’d go for a stroll. Such a pretty afternoon.”
He supposed that if she was able to be sarcastic, that was a good sign. Not that he’d really expected her to fall weeping on him with professions of gratitude, but a thank-you wouldn’t go amiss. He dug out water, a bar of soap, and a towel from Vale’s saddlebags, unhooked her satchel, and brought it all to her. “Here,” he said. “So you can clean up and change clothes. I won’t look.”
“You’ve already seen me naked,” Lady Veronica called to his back. “And you own me regardless, so I don’t see how it matters.”
Without replying, he trudged back to Vale, who—now that the battle frenzy was fading—stood in wide-legged exhaustion, head hanging low with blood-flecked spittle falling from his muzzle. Gabriel only hoped it was from biting his foes and not a result of injury or overworking his great-hearted lungs. Stripping off the horse’s tack and leaving it in a pile for later, he coaxed Vale into a gentle walk in the shade of the trees, talking to him gently all the while. When the horse breathed more normally, Gabriel led him back to the pile of tack and searched the saddlebags for another towel. The wounds were all shallow, the bleeding slowing. Conjuring water, he sluiced them clean and left them to close naturally. The bleeding would help rid the horse of any nasties.
He’d just begun rubbing down the sweat-soaked hide, when Lady Veronica—surprisingly clean, given the meager supplies, and wearing fresh clothes—took up the task on the other side. Doing it well, too.
“You know horses?” he asked.
She curled a lip. “I’m not an idiot. I might be helpless at taking care of myself in a fight, but I do knowsomethings.”
“I didn’t mean to imply you’re an idiot.” Though he supposed he had made an assumption about her life as a lady of luxury.Lady Veronica is soft, sheltered, and blissfully unequipped to cope with the greater world.The proctor’s words had clearly gotten into his head.
“You’re dead on your feet, Lord Phel,” she said, not unkindly. “Why don’t you avail yourself of that soap and water and clean your wounds before they fester from whatever rotten meat was used to make those hunters. I’ll take care of Vale here.” With an affection she’d never shown Gabriel, she stroked Vale’s neck. “That’s right, brave boy. Let Nic take care of you.”
