by Eve Forward
The unicorn was trapped, its long ivory horn thrust almost clear through a thick, gnarled lemon tree, that even now grew and expanded, holding the horn tightly as if it were a nail driven into the bark. The unicorn set all four golden hooves into the turf, and tugged mightily, snorting in rage. The tree shook and showered lemons and leaves down on them again. The citrus smell filled the air.
“Villains! What Is This Foul Trick! I Shall Smite Thee To Smithereens For This!” raged the unicorn.
“Amain fine job, laddie,” said Arcie, coming up.
“Now what are we to do with yon great beast?”
Sam looked uncertain, thinking, while Blackmail and Valerie and Robin approached. The party looked at the trapped, struggling beast, as it raged and snorted. Sam finally took out his shortsword. “I guess we’d better kill it,” he said, with a shrug. “We can’t leave it here to starve, and it’ll kill us if it gets loose.”
“I Shall Slay Thee! I Shall Scatter Thy Bloody Bones To The Four Winds, Thou Foul And Evil Beings Of...”
“Aye aye, aye and we ken, old horsie,” said Arcie.
Blackmail nodded solemnly to Sam’s comment, having recovered his long heavy sword, and now moved to the creature’s head, preparing to deliver the final blow. But Valerie, hastening up to where they stood, stopped him.
“Hold your blade, knight,” she cautioned. Kaylana looked at her in surprise.
“Valerie? I would have thought you in particular would be all for the death of this unicorn. It is beautiful, true, but with the imbalance of Light as it is ...”
“Yes, I know. But one life, even that of a unicorn, will make no difference now. And tell me,” she said, looking about them, “In tales and stories, what is the usual fate of those who slay unicorns? Evilness is one thing, but the blood of a unicorn brings swift and sure vengeance from the forces of good... with whom we already have far too much troubles.” There was a pause while they digested this, and then Sam and Blackmail lowered their blades.
“The sorceress is right,” agreed Sam. “But what can we do? It will die just as surely here if we leave it.”
“I Shall Rip Thy Skin From Thy Poxy Form, Villain, And Crush Thy Skull Like ...”
“Yes, all right,” said the assassin hurriedly. Kaylana sighed.
“I shall slow the tree’s growth, then, and induce it to release the horn. It will take it some time to comply, however ... trees are not known for being swift to action. We should have a few hours to escape in.”
“All right, then,” agreed Valerie. “A pity we are not in a more secure position ... There’s quite a good bit of meat on a unicorn, and with a blackberry and mushroom sauce ...”
“You mean you’ve actually eaten one of these things before?” asked Robin, horrified. Valerie shrugged.
“No, not me personally ... but I have it on good authority they taste just like chicken.”
“Chicken!! Why, Thou Foul, Black, And Evil Hag...”
“Watch it, horse,” snapped Valerie. “Work your magic, Kaylana, and let’s get out of here.”
“Certes,” said the Druid, resting one hand on the trembling tree and closing her eyes. Sam carefully inched around to the rear of the struggling animal, and with a lightning move yanked his dagger free of the unicorn’s rump. The creature roared in fury and hammered at him with its hind hooves, but he dodged away and wiped his dagger on the grass. The area immediately sprouted with lush clover and wildflowers. He shook his head in puzzlement.
“Get yourself along, laddie,” called Arcie, as the party moved away through the shadows. Sam sheathed his dagger and hastened after them.
As he caught up, Kaylana turned to him in cold anger.
“Why the Oak were you throwing all those daggers around back there?” she demanded. “I watched you nearly struck us several times and were not even coming close to the unicorn!”
“I only threw it twice,” Sam muttered. “It hit the unicorn the second time.”
“Ah, is this perhaps your I-never-miss excuse?” inquired Kaylana coldly, folding her arms skeptically.
“Then what, pray tell, did you hit after you threw it the first time?”
Sam held out an arm. Blood trickled from his biceps.
“Could I have a bandage, please?”
Robin was nervous and fidgety the entire time they traveled. The evil villains were heading straight for Mizzamir, and he, Robin, had sent them there! The wizard had to be told! He fretted until late morning, when at last the group stopped to rest in the shade by a river, near a small town. Kaylana had been given a pouch of small coin, and went into the settlement to buy common traveling robes for the rest of the party. Soon they would need to enter the gates of Thaulara, and it would be a good idea to try and blend in somewhat. When she had left and the others had settled down to rest, Robin offered to take the first watch, and waited patiently until they had all fallen still, and sounds of slumber drifted through the bright air. Slowly, Robin stood up, propping himself up on his forelegs and then working his hindlegs up into a standing position. Shaking slightly with the effort of making no noise, he slowly began to back out of the small campsite, to get far enough away to safely activate the bracelet and report to Mizzamir... but a faint metallic scraping stopped him. Blackmail’s helmet had raised up from the knight’s chest and turned to face him in silent watchfulness. The young centaur’s blood ran cold, and, ears flicking in anxiety, he settled himself back down onto the grass.
“Just stretching my legs,” he stammered by way of explanation.
But the dark helmet remained upright and watchful, and at last Robin dropped into fitful, guilty sleep, awakening only when Kaylana returned, bearing common peasant robes for the bipedal members of the party. When time came to don these, at the beginning of their travel that evening, a slight hitch developed.
“He willna wear it,” complained Arcie to Sam, holding the huge rough hooded robe out to Blackmail, who stood impassively.
“Have you tried reasoning with him?” asked the assassin, who was busy securing his weapons around the inside of his own dark brown robe. They were going to possibly find Mizzamir ... and if they should encounter him, Sam was going to be ready.
“ ‘Tis fair hard work to reason with a feller who will not give you words to argue with,” retorted Arcie.
“He would look ridiculous in a robe anyway,” said Valerie dismissively. “Even if we put his hood up. A seven-foot tall clanking robed figure?”
“He is conspicuous enough as it is,” sighed Kaylana.
“We had better go into the city under cover of night, and leave before the sun rises. Valerie, I suggest you concentrate your camouflage magic upon the knight and the centaur, as they are the most distinctive members of our party.”
“Right enough,” Valerie agreed, adjusting her own ocher lady’s robe. She examined the cords, then shrugged and worked her fingers over the fabric a moment, muttering the words of a spell. The color of the robe shifted into a deep blue, trimmed lightly with black and silver at the hems. Valerie somehow managed to make the garment look menacing. Sam felt that if the silver embroidery was closely examined it would show horrible scenes of death and torture. Valerie smiled in satisfaction.
“Be you a blue-ranking wizard, then?” inquired Arcie from the sidelines, where he was sitting in his too-big robes and smoking a pipe. The Nathauan shook her head as she tied up the cords of the robe. Nightshade perched on her shoulder, preening.
“The magic of the Underrealm works differently than that of the shallow surface folk ... suffice to say, I am capable enough to wear these robes.”
“Don’t cause any trouble, please, Valerie,” Sam asked, without much hope.
“Who, me?” she asked, smiling with a mouthful of sharp teeth. Sam shook his head.
“Innocence looks ridiculous on a Nathauan,” he replied.
Mizzamir currently had far more important concerns than the approach of a few minor villains. It was the holiday of the annual Thaumatic Convergence,
when wizards and sages and soothsayers and spellweavers from all over the Six Lands and the rest of Chiaroscuro would come together. This year they met in his own mighty halls, in the Castle of Diamond Magic. The events would last for three full days-contests, banquets, speeches, seminars, meetings, greetings, presentations, and panels.
Young novices would flaunt their skills in performance and competitions to impress the visiting higher mages in hopes of winning an apprenticeship. Experts from the different fields of Light magic, from the geomancers to timespinners, would be in attendance to present the results of their latest studies, to win honor and prestige as well as share their knowledge freely, for the Good of all.
Some of Mizzamir’s compatriots had been leery of this aspect of the Convergence, but a few talks in private with the Arch-Mage had turned them around. There would be trades and sales of potions and components and new devices, and familiars of a thousand species fluttering and hissing at each. other. There would be games for the apprentices and dignified dialogue for the senior wizards. A thousand things to organize, plan, arrange... Mizzamir had no time to hunt scoundrels at the moment. He’d had word that Sir Fenwick had landed in Natodik recently; he could only assume that the young hero was going to continue his pursuit of the villains. This bothered him a bit. but he knew Fenwick was a man of his word, a man of Good. Mizzamir had instructed that the villains not be killed, only observed; and while Fenwick might do what he liked in his own land of Trois, while, on the golden fields of Natodik he would have to abide by Mizzamir’s wishes. I think it should be all for the best, Mizzamir thought as he marked off a list of guests already arrived. By horse and foot and cart, by teleport and magic carpet and winged drake and firesteed they came. Fenwick can keep an eye on those deviants and make sure they don’t cause any problems. I am simply far too busy. There are limits to even a Hero, after all...
He sighed in satisfaction, his graceful Elven hands sprinkling sand over the drying ink. He looked up from his golden desk, stretching stiffened joints, and looked peacefully up at the stained-glass window in this, his private tower, the highest in the Castle. The large arched frame held a portrait of himself in glowing light, surrounded by scenes of his magical triumphs from the War and the Victory. Some of the pictures showed him in his younger years, with the golden hair he had once had before the War and powerful magics had taken their toll.
The colors gleamed in the sunlight: from the brilliant color-golden hues of the Light Dragons he had called to the aid of the Heroes, to the dark, lurking shape of the Thur-Uisgie, evil demon guardian of the vaults of Putak-Azum whom he had defeated so long ago. Even now, the dark shape gave him a faint shadow of a shudder; his good nature sometimes troubled him, when he thought of how he had used that terrible creature later, in fashioning his Test; his kind heart hoped no one should ever have to face that Test. With luck, no one would ... the gods had hidden it away, of course, so well and so far he could never know its location, and thus, no one else would ever find it. He smiled up at his image in the window, his own face beaming radiantly down upon him in soft hues.
The Verdant Company had continued its pursuit. Reduced drastically in size to spare the gentle fields of Natodik from the havoc caused by a small army on the move, the active Company now consisted of Fenwick and about a dozen of his top officers. Their mission, as Mizzamir had surmised, was nothing more than to follow, watch, and learn of the movement of the renegades, and to keep innocent people free from harm at the hands of the evil ones. They rode through the countryside at a leisurely pace, Fenwick’s excellent tracking skills deftly locating and following the evasive route of their quarry.
As they approached a small forest, an odd sight met their eyes. A large, rose-gold dragon sat on the greensward at the edge of the woods, wings folded. Nearby stood a proud unicorn, white with flowing silver mane and tail. Fenwick had never seen the unicorn before, but the dragon was another matter. He exclaimed in surprise and rode forward, motioning to his company to stay back.
“Lumathix, noble dragon! Ho!” called Fenwick. The dragon’s head turned, and the golden eyes widened in pleated surprise. It shrilled a greeting.
“Why, hello there, young Sir Fenwick!” Lumathix called. The unicorn snorted uneasily. The dragon raised a huge paw reassuringly. “It’s all right, he’s a friend of mine.”
The unicorn snorted and held its ground. It had had quite enough to do with human and their ilk lately, and it still had a terrible headache from working its horn loose from the tree.
“What brings you here, Lumathix?” asked Fenwick, as he reached the two. His magnificent bay horse was made nervous by the dragon, but Fenwick was a master horseman, and the animal soon calmed. The dragon sniffed.
“I got into a bit of a scrape awhile ago, and took a few nasty wounds that started to get worse... so I sought out this good unicorn for healing.” The unicorn bobbed its head in acknowledgment. “And he was just telling me about some dirty villains that did him a bad turn, didn’t they?”
“Most Certain,” snorted the unicorn. “Foul Fiends, Evil To The Core, Black-Garbed ...”
“Really?” exclaimed Fenwick, “Six of them? A centaur, and a black knight, and a young woman, red hair ...”
“Red Hair... Ah Yes, The Maiden,” remembered the unicorn, its eyes getting slightly misty. “Yes! And a rotten little Barigan, and a Nathauan, and an assassin!” shrilled Lumathix. “The same ones! “”You know of them?”
“They’re the reason the Company is called out,” asserted Fenwick.
“Well, something should definitely be done,” sniffed Lumathix. “Nasty people, woke me up from my nap and then cut me all about.”
“Something will be done,” assured Fenwick. His eyes sparkled suddenly. “In fact, I have an idea... Lumathix, listen...”
The massive rose-gold dragon bent his swanlike neck and spread his great ears wide, and the unicorn tilted its head to one side as they listened to Fenwick’s plan ...
“We shall need some form of plan,” said Kaylana, as they walked up the sloping roads to the walled city of Thaulara. The city glimmered like a dragon’s horde in the twilight, the Castle of Diamond Magic a glittering crown of gold set with gems, stained-glass windows lit from within.
“If we be after finding a ‘spire that spears the sky, t’would make sense that such would be the tallest of towers in yon castle,” suggested Arcie. “ ‘Tis plain as the legs on a donkey.”
“Then we just have to climb up that tower and get in through a window, search the place, find the Test, and then go from there, depending on whether or not Valerie survives it,” muttered Sam, as the sight of the home of his quarry sent the fire running in his blood.
“Why me?” exclaimed Valerie indignantly. “I’m the brains behind this quest, not some grunt swordfodder.”
“Because you are, of course, the only one among us to have mastered the arts of the thaumatic magic,” replied Kaylana coldly. “I doubt my ‘backwoods peasant magic,’ as you so frequently refer to it, would be of much use against a wizard’s Test.”
“How are you going to get up the wall?” Robin asked.
They passed through the open bronze gates and were met with a rush of warm air-the sandstone buildings were releasing their heat into the night. Accompanying the breeze were smells of spicy food and sounds of merri ment. Colorful bunting fluttered from buildings, adding to the general air of celebration. As if on cue, an explo sion in the night made them all look up. Against the darkness over the Castle, magical fireworks were begin ning; fountains of green and blue, bursts of white stars and red flames and flowers, orange and yellow and tur quoise pinwheels and sparks, and huge purple fireballs that burst with the sound of bass drums.
“Looks to be as the wizards are having a party,” Arcie commented. Blackmail nodded assent.
“The place is going to be lit up like midsummer,” growled Sam under his breath. “It’s going to be risky to climb that wall in all this.”
“I can’t climb at all,”
Robin pointed out, hoping to be left behind ... He had to warn Mizzamir! Sam just nod ded.
“I know that... I don’t think Blackmail would like to shinny up a silk rope either...” he added, looking at the dark armored figure. The knight shook his head.
“In that case, we might as well split up ... Robin and Blackmail, you had better stay in town ... try to be in conspicuous. If Mizzamir has been keeping track of us he’ll know what you look like. Valerie and I will go to the tower wall, I’ll climb it and pull her up on the rope ... Kaylana, Arcie, do you think you could sneak inside? We may need you for distraction in case things get difficult.”
“A piece of cake,” answered the thief, with a grin. “Be like there’ll be all kinds servants and hired wenches for yon great merry bash.”
“Are you expecting trouble?” Kaylana asked, looking sidelong at Sam.
“I always do ... that way it’s less likely to surprise me.” He didn’t add that there might be all kinds of trou ble when he finally killed Mizzamir; he doubted the other mages of the Castle would be very pleased.
They split up as they entered town; Sam and Valerie, robes rustling, headed off in the general direction of the Castle by an indirect route, while Arcie and Kaylana managed to mingle with a group of chatting robed townsfolk carrying several large casks of wine up the winding street to the Castle grounds. Robin and Blackmail wandered off among the crowds, keeping some distance apart so that their presences seemed unrelated, but staying within sight of each other.
The knight and centaur drifted through the streets.
Though it was evening, the city was lit up like a ballroom chandelier; glowing magical wizard-lights, product of a simple, low-powered spell, danced and hung trembling from cornices and signposts, adding their many colors to the warm glow of regular street lanterns that shed golden radiance across the mortared yellow bricks. Robin noticed that the road beneath his hooves was cobbled in multicolored river stones; the effect was mystical by night and would no doubt be stunning by day. Mizzamir had taken care to see that the Land under his care was as fair and fine as any Elven city of old. People thronged the streets; in addition to whatever the Castle itself might be celebrating, some local festival seemed to be going on as well. Robin turned and gawked and occasionally stumbled as his eyes lost track of his hooves on the cobblestones.