The Inept Adept & The Almost Last Unicorn

by Peter Butterworth

THE INEPT ADEPT

  AND

  THE ALMOST LAST UNICORN

  By Peter Butterworth

  Copyright 2013/ This Edition 2015 Peter Butterworth

  ISBN – 9781458151490

  Website: butterworththewriter.com

  FACEBOOK

  (I may be the only Peter Butterworth from the USA.)

  LinkedIn.com

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Epilogue

  Other Books by Peter Butterworth

  About the Author

  The End

  THE INEPT ADEPT & THE ALMOST LAST UNICORN

  PROLOGUE

  The unicorn felt a chill. He raised his head from the wonderfully sweet young grass he had been grazing on.

  He searched the skies wondering if he was in danger.

  Nope. No dragons in the sky. Not even a cloud on this fine, early spring day. He looked around.

  The unicorn saw several wild horses but they gave him a wide berth. Not out of fear but from deference. The unicorn shivered again.

  All of a sudden the unicorn felt lonely. He wondered where other unicorns might be. He tried to think how long it had been since he had seen another unicorn.

  It had been…well, it certainly had been a long time. Decades perhaps. Perhaps longer. Unicorns did not know the concept of calendars.

  He shivered again. His loneliness seemed to intensify. He knew he must seek…other unicorns?

  Ah, no.

  He must seek his mate.

  But where would she be? Where should he look?

  CHAPTER ONE

  Howdry Camphor moaned as his wife placed the piping hot bowl of stew on the kitchen table. At most times he’d be hungry as well as proud. But not this time. Not this moment. And not for a number of moments past and what was infinitely worse for moments future.

  He was a man generally content though his life was filled with work. He had a successful farm, a loving and to him a lovely wife. She had a wonderful disposition and what a cook. Her stews were famous and rightly so. It made him proud and content. Usually. But not this time.

  He looked at the food and groaned. He had missed breakfast and hadn’t eaten last night’s supper.

  He had to stand to relieve the pain. “I’m sorry honey but I just can’t.”

  Polly Camphor looked concerned. Her husband’s appetite was legendary. He was not quite the biggest man but he may have been one of the strongest. He had a boundless energy which was a blessing since their oldest child was a girl.

  Nadilia who was fifteen was not only a female, so couldn’t be expected to do a man’s work, but she took after Polly. She was small and petite. True, she seemed to have her father’s energy and determination but she needed help to carry the full pails of milk after she milked Plodgie the cow.

  Their second of three children was a boy and that, most times, would be a blessing for a farmer. But Billy was also small. He was intense and given to long periods of contemplation. It also seemed he had some magical aptitude so he took classes at the one thing the village of Oakendusk was known far and wide for. It kept him away from most of the farming chores.

  Oakendusk was in most respects a typical village in Conestableshire. Oakendusk was filled with small farms, some shops for the usual needs and a few shops for crafts of superior quality. It had a genial climate and rare was the time the village and surroundings were harassed by magical creatures. They hadn’t seen an ogre in an elf’s age.

  Peacefulness and quality of the farming led to contented people which fostered the trades and crafts and with it came Barry Ding’s Academy of Magic. It was here that Billy spent the bulk of his time. From six in the morning to three in the afternoon.

  The town even boasted of a renown physician who unfortunately was absent at the moment.

  “Dearest,” said Polly, “Doctor Rutgide will be back shortly. I be…”

  “Polly I’m in anguish. If he doesn’t come within the hour I’ll surely die.” Howdry stood dejected and in pain. He could barely walk. His stomach was so distended and hard it hurt to scratch an itch on his ample abdomen.

  “I’m going to…” Howdry tilted his head at the door. The door opened to a path which led to the outhouse. He turned his body slowly. When he faced the door he walked, well, perhaps minced would be more accurate. He couldn’t take a full step. It was just too painful.

  Howdry made it to the door and gingerly stepped down. The path to take him to the outhouse was well worn and for the most part without obstacles. He hoped he could avoid the ruts and other impedimenta. The outhouse was on the side of the very comfortable and by most standards a large plank wood house.

  The front and side of the house was very close to the main road which ended in the small village square. He normally liked sitting on the porch so he could say hello to those going to the shops or just visiting the mayor and elders with news or problems.

  Today he didn’t care to see anyone. He wasn’t in such a good mood to even return a greeting. The outhouse seemed soooo far away. Normally just twelve long strides. Not today. Thirty steps or more he guessed.

  Since he couldn’t think of what else he could do and he knew he wasn’t good company the outhouse seemed like the best place for him. Maybe it would bring him luck.

  He had taken ten mincing steps from the kitchen’s side door when he heard the clop-clop-clop from up the road. The clop-clop-clop was coming toward him. He looked up.

  Oh, what luck. I can’t believe it. I’m saved.

  “Hello there master unicorn. I’m so glad you’ve come by.” He tried to hurry to get closer to the road. There was the rail fence but it wasn’t high and he could reach over easily to touch the healing creature. He liked a lower fence as it afforded him a better view of what went up or down the thoroughfare. The outhouse nearly abutted the fence.

  The unicorn, if he heard Howdry, never looked over and kept moseying down the road. He hadn’t been in the Oakendusk environs for many, many years, probably half an elf’s age at least. He did remember the meadow. He was daydreaming about the meadow. It had the most delightful buttercups though he wasn’t thinking about that. He was perseverating on Shastra. He had met her in that meadow.

  ‘Let’s see…the way to the meadow was…ah, take a right at the fork in the road.’ He actually was aware of the non-elf but the unicorn neither slowed nor acknowledged him. A non-elf was of no interest to him.

  “Please master unicorn. Please help me.”

  The unicorn continued on his way but the man’s pleas intruded into his daydreaming. This was intolerable. He looked over and saw what appeared to be a crippled middle-aged non-elf and snorted in disgust.

  Howdry stood still as the unicorn walked away from him and took the right fork. Sheeps-Head meadow, Howdry knew. But he could never make it that far. He sighed and almost cried. He looked at the outhouse, sighed and almost cried again. He still had twenty half-steps at the very least.

  CHAPTER TWO

  LacCluster Minfrey had
a hard time keeping his anger in check. He kept hearing Attitude in his head. It made him in parts angry, frustrated, picked on, put upon, singled out, discouraged, frustrated and angry and, and, and…

  It never occurred to him what the master said was or could even be true. Lac never wondered that when the master said ‘Attitude!’ he was speaking to all the apprentices. Lac was the one who was not performing up to the expected level. Attitude my eye.

  Lac felt a tug on his brown robe. He knew without looking it would be Billy Camphor. He liked the kid though at this moment his seething was in the way of his friendliness.

  He really shouldn’t think of Billy as a kid. Yet, not only was Billy the smallest in the school but looked about ten instead of his thirteen years. And Lac had some recollection of what that could be like. He sighed as he thought, an almost happy thought, at fifteen he was no longer a kid himself. He was an adult now…and shouldn’t that count for something!!!!

  “C’mon Lac. Mom will have her stew all ready for us.” With that important piece of information conveyed Billy bolted and was almost the first out the door. Billy never looked back. Nobody, but nobody refuses an invitation to eat at his mother’s table.

  Lac waited for everyone to exit the classroom. He was afraid he’d hear the taunts from his classmates so he hoped most would be gone when he emerged from school. Yet again, Lac wasn’t able to think clearly due to his own self absorption. He was the tallest and surprisingly strong and agile for his age. None wanted to try their luck in a physical confrontation. But that was the least of the concerns from his peer group. Lac’s ‘attitude’ had led to some very strange magical conjuring.

  To Lac’s classmates this was a very, very, an extremely good reason to avoid his wrath. One never knew just what may occur though it was the consensus that whatever did occur would not be pleasant for anyone in the general vicinity or even the shire.

  Lac left the schoolroom dejected, hurt and preoccupied. In some ways this was the major problem for Lac. He could not stay focused on one subject long enough to have a full examination of that one particular thing.

  He didn’t hear the “hello Nady” as Billy was running out of the center of town. Billy was heading for the road which would take him to his father’s farm and his mother’s kitchen table.

  Had Lac heard the greeting he might have composed himself. But his thoughts were as bleak as his mood. Would he ever be qualified to become an adept at magic? He was sick with worry. He knew he had the innate ability for magic but with three years of training he seemed no closer to the master’s helper let alone the master himself.

  He wondered for the one millionth, or so, time if he would ever be a magician. He had had thoughts as any twelve year old that he would make a difference in the world. A big difference. An important difference. The only difference so far was the clothier, Mallus Kinnie, had grown richer from all the brown student’s robes Lac was wont to destroy. That was definitely NOT the legacy he wanted to be known for.

  Nadilia sidled up to Lac. He knew there was someone near him but didn’t really care who it might have been and for what it might be for.

  He was worrying about Nadilia. He liked her (Ahem. He really liked her!). When she looked at him with those huge, round blue eyes he would melt. She would hold her small hands in such a wonderful way…how could he even think of such things, he chided himself. He and Nady were adults but they were not old enough to marry.

  And that’s assuming she’d marry him. Probably be the last thing she’d ever do. His mood bleak before was now black. How unfair.

  His anger got to him and he began to raise his hands…

  “Lac, please no magic now. You know how mother says it spoils one’s appetite.”

  Lac was startled and his hands returned to his side pockets. He also stopped and stared.

  She’s so lovely…she’s so sweet…she deserves a good man…she deserves a good magician “…of which I’ll never become.”

  “Yes, you will Lac. I have faith in you.”

  Lac’s face wore the color red well. True, with all the fax paux’s in conjuring he’s learned to wear the color red often. That in itself made him angry and he stammered and stuttered.

  “Come and sup with us Lac. Mom’s venison stew with that fresh herb which arrived yesterday…”

  “I’m not hungry.” That’s what he heard in his mind. But it seemed his tongue just couldn’t form the words correctly. If the words had come out that well his face may not have become even redder. What Nadilia heard was, “ah naa ungy.”

  Perhaps Nadilia had some innate magic or the gift of translation for she seemed to understand. She placed her hand on Lac’s arm, “then maybe you should practice some.” She smiled that smile that sent his face the reddest yet. He could only nod.

  “Mayhaps you’ll be hungry later and come by for a snack?” Her hand was still on his arm and his body tingled from her touch. He could only nod.

  Nadilia smiled again and squeezed his forearm before taking her hand away. She walked down the road to her family’s farm.

  Lac watched her backside as she walked away from him. His face got redder. He shook his head. Maybe some more practice wouldn’t hurt. But a safe area would be…

  Lac took a shortcut to the meadow. It was a nice walk at most times what with the breeze gently rustling the trees. Warm but not hot or stifling. Bird chatter all around him. However, Lac was too preoccupied to enjoy the walk through the woods. As he neared the meadow he saw some toadstools near a small pool of a meandering rill.

  He stopped and contemplated the toadstools. Lac pulled back his shoulders and pushed up the sleeves of his robe. He concentrated.

  His hands with palms down jumped in front of him fingers pointing at the toadstools. The biggest one blew up with a small pop. The second toadstool caught fire and the third wilted to nothingness.

  Lac’s hands dropped to his sides. His shoulders slumped. He felt in parts angry, frustrated, disgusted…

  Lac heard the bunnies and squirrels laughing on the other side of the pool. He now felt mortified. And angry and frustrated. Too angry even to feel disgusted. He stared daggers at the animals laughing and rolling around the green moss. Occasionally one would point and the laughter began anon.

  He now became too dejected to feel angry. His face flushed and felt hot. Might as well go through the meadow.

  Lac turned to continue down the path. Still hearing the laughter being directed at him he took his left hand, palm up in the direction of the animals and said simply with no small amount of resignation, “stop it.”

  He briefly wondered if maybe he should have added please but the animals would not have heard him. They were being blown back twenty feet. The ones who hit trees or boulders had the wind knocked out of them. The others were simply dazed.

  Lac didn’t know it but none of those bunnies and squirrels would ever laugh at him again.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The unicorn stood at the edge of the meadow. It looked the same and yet it looked different. He couldn’t at first place the reason for this. No Shastra! Ah. He had a bad feeling about this.

  He walked around and wandered willy-nilly in the meadow. It was a large meadow and it took time to find the spoors left by Shastra. He found some dung of Shastra’s but it was ancient. The dung had fallen in a crevice of a small boulder situated near the largest buttercup area. Her scent was still there. That was the only scent in the whole of the meadow he could pick out from her.

  How many years he wondered since she had been there? He tried to think how many years it had been since he met any other unicorn. Though nominally equines, unicorns did not socialize as other horses. They tended to be aloof and isolative. They only mated once in half an elf’s age or so.

  Also, the attributes of unicorns were not the same as other equines. They were magical for one. However, the magic was not the same degree amongst unicorns nor necessarily of the same type. Plus, they lived lives much longer than most including the elves.<
br />
  Yes, many unicorns had the magic to heal but not all nor of the same measure. Sometimes the healing may be done from a touch of the tip of a unicorn’s horn. Or, with some it was from the unicorn’s tears. At times, as it was generally known, a touch or stroke along the back or flank of a unicorn could produce healing.

  For this capability by some unicorns most humans thought all unicorns were healers. What was more trying, by human perceptions, most unicorns, whether they could heal or not, did not like the company of non-elves.

  Humans wanted too much from them for one thing. For another, humans were too loud for the solitary and contemplative unicorns. And too restless. Humans never seemed to just sit and reflect. Unicorns and elves could not understand that. Humans were constantly chatting and rarely were listening. If they could only hear themselves!

  ‘I mean, how important is much of what they talk about?’

  The unicorn realized he was hungry. The buttercups still had that wonderful aroma. He bent down and started eating the delicious…his eyes watered a little as he understood these buttercups were delicious because of the years Shastra had fertilized them with her dung. He ate in silence. It was his way to honor…

  “Oh look darling. We’ve found the unicorn. Polly Camphor was right.”

  The unicorn heard the pair. Unicorn hearing is much better than most animals.

  Maybe they’ll go away, he thought. He continued to graze. His rear-end was to them ‘so perhaps they’ll take that as a hint.’

  The unicorn was wondering about the dragons. They hadn’t been seen around here for some time. That’s one good thing about the humans. They were pretty good at killing the young ones, the small ones…

  The unicorn was startled. The female human’s voice was much closer.

  “Hello master unicorn.”

  The unicorn hoped she didn’t see him flinch. Unicorns were such daydreamers. In a perfect world daydreaming isn’t a cause for alarm. But when you are the favorite comestible of dragons daydreaming can be right dangerous, even lethal.

  “Master unicorn I beseech thee to heal my son. He stutters so…”