He gestured at his bag, but Mr Deacon was already nodding. “Certainly! That’s an excellent idea. But don’t stray too far from the Centre and make sure you’re back by four.”
As soon as Mr Deacon was out of earshot, Lewis turned to Rhona. “Are you OK? You’ve gone a funny colour.”
“We’re in big trouble, Lewis.” Rhona’s eyes were stricken. “Ailsa McAllister knows that we’ve seen the dead unicorn.”
“How can she?”
A single tear trickled down Rhona’s cheek. “It’s all my fault.”
“I don’t understand. What’s going on? Is it because of the medallion?”
“I didn’t lose the medallion abseiling, Lewis. And Ailsa didn’t find it at the cliff… I gave my St Christopher to the unicorn.”
“You did what?”
Rhona tried to explain, tears spilling down her face. “He looked so tragic. I wanted to leave some kind of tribute. You know the way people leave flowers at roadside accidents? I took off my medallion and tucked it into his mane. That horrible girl found it. And now she knows it’s mine. She knows I was there.”
Lewis gulped, closed his eyes.
Ailsa McAllister has a gun. She doesn’t want people to know about the dead unicorn. She knows we know. We should keep well away from her. But…
He breathed in the soft mountain air, tried to gather his rapidly unravelling courage.
“Rhona, I’m going to the Langcroft Estate, right now, before the others come back.” He spoke quickly, getting the words out before he had time to change his mind. “I reckon it’s where Ailsa is holding the other unicorns we heard her talk about. I know it’s a crazy plan, and you don’t need to come with me if you don’t want to. But I’m going to find the unicorns, and when I find them, I’m going to set them free.”
He hoisted his rucksack on to his shoulders and set off across the moor, trying to ignore the fear gripping his insides.
12
Rhona
Rhona watched Lewis go, too shocked to move.
Had he really just said he was going to go to Langcroft and free the unicorns?
Her Lewis?
What had got into him?
He usually moved at a sluggish pace, head down, hair drooping, but this afternoon he was like a different person, striding across the heather, focused and determined, heading straight for trouble.
“Oi, wait for me!” Rhona chased after him, deciding she’d better be the voice of reason. “Haud on, Lewis. For starters, you don’t even know where Langcroft is. Shouldn’t we go back to the Centre first an’ get a map?”
Lewis didn’t slow down. He kept walking, so fast that Rhona had to scurry to keep up. “I know exactly where Langcroft is. We passed the entrance yesterday when we were going kayaking. I noticed because I’ve always wanted to go there. Langcroft House is world-famous for the sculptures in its walled garden. There’s even a Henry Moore.”
“Oh, wow. A Henry Moore, whatever the heck that is, and fifteen flamin’ unicorns. So what’s the plan, Lewis? Should we no’ have a plan? Or are we just going to march into Langcroft and say ‘Oi, big man, let a’ those unicorns go?’”
Lewis chewed his bottom lip and Rhona’s heart plummeted. Surely that wasn’t the actual plan.
“I think we might need a more subtle approach,” he said, clearly making the plan up as he went along. “The gates will be open, as the estate gardens are open to the public, but once we’re inside, we’ll have to do a bit of sneaking around.”
“Aye, we’ll have to be sneaky alright. Ailsa knows we’ve seen the deid unicorn. Bet she’s expecting us to turn up.” Rhona banged her fist against her forehead. “I can’t believe I was such a numpty! I could have picked some heather or something. Why did I have to leave evidence that I was at the actual scene of the actual crime?”
Lewis shrugged. “It was a nice gesture. And Ailsa McAllister might know we saw the unicorn’s body, but there’s nothing she can do about it, is there? I bet she’s a lot more scared than we are. She’ll be afraid that we’re running about telling people.”
“We tried that, didn’t we? Mr Deacon didn’t believe a word we said. And no wonder.”
An appalling thought occurred to her, so horrible it made her feel physically sick.
“Lewis, what if Ailsa has hacked off the horns? She wouldn’t have to hide the unicorns if she’s done that, would she? They’d look like bog-ordinary horses.”
“I don’t know for sure, but I don’t think they’d survive that.” Lewis started to walk even faster, as if he was trying to outrun the danger.
Rhona trailed behind in gloomy silence, dreading what they were going to find.
It seemed a long walk and Rhona wasn’t sure if Lewis was even heading in the right direction, but a large white lettering spelling ‘Langcroft Estate’ loomed into view. Lewis pointed at it, eyes triumphant.
“We’re here!”
“Well spotted, Sherlock.”
They walked through the main gate, towards a forest of signs. Lewis stopped in front of them.
“So where first: the car park, the walled garden, the main house, the café, the children’s play area or the public toilet?” he asked.
“Don’t be daft,” said Rhona. “We need to look in the non-touristy places. Let’s try this way.” She veered off, onto a narrow path, lined with ragged Scots pines. Lewis followed. It felt good to be taking the lead, though she’d have been happier if she’d a clue where to go.
“Where would be the best place to keep a herd of unicorns?” asked Lewis. “Do you think they’ll have split them up or kept them all together?”
Rhona resisted the urge to ask him how she was supposed to know that and focused on negotiating the path ahead. Though she’d never have admitted it to Lewis, it was clear that the shortcut through the trees wasn’t the best idea she’d ever had. The rutted tracks were dangerously uneven and they had to walk with their eyes turned down to avoid being tripped by snaking roots or snagged by trailing brambles. It seemed to take for ever before the trees cleared and they arrived at the edge of a small loch. In the distance they could see Langcroft house itself, its sandstone turrets gleaming butter-yellow in the sunshine. Rhona was relieved to be back in the sunlight, but they were in more danger here.
They started to walk along the loch, heading further from the house, towards another area of woodland. Rhona pointed out a dilapidated boathouse crouched by the water.
“What about in there?”
The building’s corrugated-iron roof was rusted and pitted with holes, the slatted walls badly split and the paintwork long peeled away.
Rhona gave the door a gentle push. It creaked open. Sunlight washed over the interior, formed puddles of molten silver on the ground, and for a moment it seemed as though magic was a possibility. But closer inspection revealed the upturned hull of a wrecked rowing boat, some broken oars and a heap of rusting tools.
“No unicorns.” Rhona bit her lip, bizarrely disappointed. For a split second, the boathouse had seemed the perfect place to keep a couple of unicorns, but now she could see that it was completely unsuitable. The roof was too low, the space too cramped. Unicorns were big animals. They needed space.
“Ah, well.” She shrugged. “Nobody said unicorn hunting was easy.”
As she closed the shed door, a fragment from Alex’s story drifted across her brain.
Look carefully and you’ll see them. Stone unicorns are everywhere…
“It’s probably a waste of time, but let’s try the walled sculpture garden,” she suggested. “We’ll have to be really careful though.”
“Don’t get me wrong, Rhona, I’d love to see the sculptures, but how on earth is that going to help us find the unicorns?”
“Don’t you remember the end of Alex’s story? He said there are statues of unicorns all over Scotland. D’you no’ think there’ll be one in Langcroft’s famous sculpture garden?”
“I guess so, though I’m not sure how finding a statue will get us
any closer to finding the real thing.”
Rhona shrugged. She wasn’t sure either, but she had a feeling that it might give them some sort of clue. “Have you a better idea, pal?”
Lewis grinned at her. “Nope. Let’s do it.”
But Rhona’s heart was thumping against her ribs as they drew nearer to the big house. What if Ailsa was watching them from one of those upstairs windows?
There were a few visitors about, but nobody paid them any attention or asked to see their tickets as they strolled casually through the stone archway into the walled garden. As soon as Rhona entered, she felt a change in the atmosphere. The garden felt safe, enclosed, and the air was heavy with the scent of roses.
It was a serene, beautiful place. Lewis and Rhona walked together with Lewis occasionally letting out an appreciative gasp or remark when he came across a sculpture.
While Lewis was staring, awe-struck, at some black marble, Rhona came to a hedge that had once been trimmed into an archway, but was now so badly overgrown that she had to push her way through. On the other side, in the corner where the side and back garden walls met, stood a small, neglected statue. Years of exposure to air and moisture had given the bronze a green patina, and its stone plinth was pitted, stained with lichen. At first she thought it was a stallion, rearing on odd cloven hooves, but then she noticed the horn on its forehead, broken almost at the base.
“Lewis!” she called. “Come and see!”
He didn’t appear, so she walked slowly around the statue, wondering if this unicorn might hold a clue to the herd’s whereabouts. When she ran her hand across its green flanks, she felt for a moment as if it might come to life, but the statue remained motionless, hooves raised, caught in mid-air. Swirling dust motes gleamed like flecks of gold and the air around the statue seemed to shimmer with magic. Heart beating fast, Rhona stepped back and took another look.
Attached to the stone plinth was a badly tarnished plaque. Pulling her jacket sleeve down over her hand, Rhona rubbed hard at it. For a moment, nothing happened. All she’d achieved was another filthy mark on her jacket. But as she stared, centuries of dirt and wear began to vanish, fade away as if she’d wiped the silver with some incredible cleaning fluid, the sort of product they advertise on the shopping channels. The plaque gleamed, its bright surface etched with curvy, scrolled letters.
Open the back door, enter the wood,
Take the path where deer once stood.
Find Dubhar’s statue carved from beech
And what you seek’s within your reach.
She had just finished reading when she heard Lewis struggling to get through the hedge behind her. “Hurry up, Lewis! I’m in here! Something weird just happened.”
But by the time he’d reached the statue the words had vanished, as if they’d never existed. The plaque had returned to the way it was before, and although she gave it another rub, nothing changed.
Rhona grabbed at Lewis’s arm. “You’re going to think I’m blethering, but I rubbed the plaque under the statue an’ writing appeared. It was a verse, and it said that to find the unicorns we need to follow the path where the deer once stood, until we get to another statue, a wooden one. That plaque said so. I swear it did,” she said, desperate to convince him that the impossible had just happened.
Lewis nodded, and she realised she didn’t have to try and convince him. After all, he’d seen a real live unicorn.
“OK. Let’s go. Um, Rhona, what’s happened to the archway?”
She spun round. It was as if the hedge had repaired itself. The gap had gone, replaced by glossy-leaved, dense foliage.
“This is getting weirder by the minute,” she muttered.
Directly behind the statue was the garden’s rear wall, and set into the wall was a door, half-hidden by ivy.
The back door! she thought.
“This way,” she said, sounding more definite than she felt, and ran over to the door.
She rattled the handle. It was locked; of course it was. The McAllisters wouldn’t want trespassers in their woods. She tugged at the ivy covering the wall, checking to see if it would take their weight.
“You’re not seriously planning on climbing that wall?”
“Well, what’s your cunning plan?”
A sharp click made them both jump. They turned in the direction of the sound, half-expecting to see Ailsa standing there, gun cocked. But the click came from the door. It was swinging silently open. For a moment they both stood frozen, stunned.
Rhona broke the silence, her voice a whisper. “This is so weird.”
“Yes, but it’s good weird. Let’s go.”
13
Lewis
Fear snaked down Lewis’s spine. The tiny hairs on the back of his neck rose. He didn’t understand what was going on, but he could feel anger in the air, a terrible rage that didn’t belong to him, and he didn’t think was Rhona’s.
“Lewis, do you think this place is magic? Maybe Ailsa’s a real live witch.”
He shook his head. There was nothing magical about her. Ailsa’s greed and cruelty were only too human.
“There’s something magical happening here,” he said, “but it isn’t the place, it’s the unicorns. Can’t you feel their anger buzzing? It’s like the noise you hear when you stand close to a pylon.”
“Is that what that is?”
“I think they want us to find them, and to help them escape. I mean, they haven’t told me so or anything. I can sense it, if that makes any sense.” He stood up, stared around and then pointed westward. “See those tufts of spiky grass? The ground’s really spongy. I think it might follow the path of an old stream. We’re looking for a path that deer used to use, aren’t we? Could that be where deer used to come to drink?”
Rhona leapt up, animated once more. “Hurry up, Lewis! We haven’t got time to sit about, you lazy git! Mr Deacon will have a hairy fit if we’re late back.”
Through the wood they squelched, following the boggy path.
Then Lewis saw a large, oddly shaped object, half hidden in the undergrowth. It was a crudely carved unicorn, green with moss, blown or knocked over. The unicorn’s front hooves were sunk in dead leaves, slowly rotting in the damp ground.
First, Lewis tried to right the unicorn, but it was far too heavy. When that failed, he checked the statue for a plaque, but there was none visible, and no writing was carved on the wood. Rhona searched too, getting increasingly cross.
“How are we meant to find the herd when there aren’t any more clues?” she muttered. “We’ll need to get back, Lewis. This is a deid end.”
He shook his head. How could that be when he could feel hope fluttering in the air, light as butterflies?
“Sit down here, Rhona, please. I think we need to be still for a moment.”
For a long moment they sat in silence. When Rhona’s body tensed, Lewis realised that she was feeling the magic around them too.
“They know we’re comin’,” she whispered. Then pointed, suddenly distracted. “Aw look, a squirrel!”
Lightning-quick, the bright-eyed red squirrel scrambled across the statue’s back. When it reached the unicorn’s horn, it stopped for a second and looked back at them. Its liquid eyes stared straight into Lewis’s.
As it scuttled up the trunk of a beech tree, Lewis leapt to his feet.
“That’s the clue!” he shouted, his voice echoing round the wood.
Rhona snorted. “Don’t be daft. Unicorns can’t climb trees.”
“No, the unicorn’s horn’s the clue! It’s pointing us in the right direction.”
He started running, his feet crunching over dead leaves, hoping Rhona would follow. On and on he ran, dodging between the thin trunks of the birch trees, leaping over stumps, his determination growing with every step.
I can do this. I can keep my promise to the dark unicorn. I’m going to help.
“Lewis! Stop!”
He jumped as though he’d been electrocuted, his bravado dissolving, convinced
somebody must be chasing after them, brandishing a gun. But there was nobody there. An ugly red-painted sign was nailed to the tree in front of them:
DANGER!
KEEP OUT!
Beech trees in this area are susceptible to sudden branch drop.
14
Rhona
“Let’s keep going.” Lewis was emphatic. “They’re definitely trying to keep people out. They don’t want anyone to know what they’re up to. Come on.”
So they walked on, although Rhona did spot Lewis glancing upwards a few times, whenever a branch creaked.
As they clambered across a tangle of tree roots, a section of barbed-wire fencing that was half hidden in the undergrowth whipped up, flailing across Lewis’s jacket sleeve and ripping against his hand. “Ow!”
Rhona grimaced at the sight of the long, bloody scratch.
They kept going, although she was seriously starting to worry that they should be heading back. Lewis might not care, but she wanted to stay in Mr Deacon’s good books. But could they stop trying, when the air fizzed with hope?
A few minutes later, the trees thinned. Rhona and Lewis entered a clearing. A round wooden structure loomed in front of them, about six metres high and as big as the school’s gym hall. It had been built in the centre of the clearing and was made of logs, placed vertically and sharpened at the top. The whole structure was surrounded by a high but oddly insubstantial fence made from thin strands of wire attached at regular intervals to wooden posts.
“Do you think it’s a kids’ play area?” asked Rhona, though she knew in her heart it was no such thing. Why would anyone build a kids’ play area in the middle of nowhere?
“It looks like a stockade, like the Romans made for defence.”
Rhona grabbed Lewis’s hand, only remembering his injury when he yelped with pain. “Oh, sorry. But Lewis, cowboys built stockades to enclose livestock… This must be where they’re keeping the unicorns!”
Guardians of the Wild Unicorns Page 6