The Secret Of The Unicorn Queen - Sun Blind

by Unknown

  She stepped closer to the man, the music moving with her. "He says," she went on, "to tell you that I haven’t stolen anything, and you are to leave me alone."

  The shopkeeper's face had gone completely white, and as Springsteen's voice rose in an urgent call to "run,” Sheila decided it was time to take the Boss's advice. In as dignified a manner as possible, she turned her back on the frightened man and sought the nearest gate out of Ansar.

  5

  The Rebel Leader

  Sheila never did meet up with Dian on her way out of the city. She half-expected that Dian had made it out of Ansar and would be waiting for her somewhere on the road. But as she walked toward the riders' camp, there was no sign of the other girl. In fact, there weren’t many people at all once she was beyond the outskirts of the city. The road narrowed as it wound back into the hills, and Sheila began to feel completely alone. What if Dian hadn't made it? What if she had been captured? How would Sheila ever explain to Illyria?

  It was late afternoon, as far she could tell, and the road still wound on. She hoped she would recognize the turn that led to the camp. She hoped she would make it back before dark.

  looked up at the sound of hoofs—incredibly light hoofs. Wildwing, with Darian on his back, was racing toward her. Darian brought the white unicorn to a stop and looked down at her with an expression she couldn't figure out—happy, relieved, and a little angry all at once.

  "Are you all right?" he asked.

  "I'm fine," Sheila answered. "But what about Dian? We-we left Ansar separately."

  "We noticed," he said dryly. "Dian's been back for a while, Nanine's already sewing disguises." He looked at Sheila's outfit and grinned. "I think the new ones are going to be an improvement over that thing."

  "Thanks a lot," Sheila muttered, trying not to smile, Then she realized what Darian was risking. "What are you doing out on Wildwing? You know it's dangerous to ride so close to the city."

  "I was looking for you," he answered gruffly. "Myno said you'd be fine, but . . . come on." He held out a hand to her. "It'll be nightfall before you get back if I let you keep walking."

  To her surprise, Darian pulled her up so that she was sitting in front of him in the saddle. That meant she'd be the one riding Wildwing.

  "Will he let me?" she asked Darian. Wildwing was a stallion and, as his name suggested, one of the wilder uni­corns. She had seen him break into a careening gallop that even Darian had trouble controlling.

  "Will you?" Darian asked the animal.

  Wildwing whinnied in answer.

  Darian smiled. "He says he'll give you a try."

  Sheila leaned forward and stroked the unicorn's strong neck. "That's very kind of you," she told the animal. Then she gently pressed her knees into his side and the unicorn turned toward the camp.

  Even with two riders on his back, Wildwing streaked effortlessly down the road. Sheila had never felt so much power in her life. With a laugh, she leaned forward and held on to the black mane, and the unicorn stretched out into a full gallop. Behind her, Darian's hands tightened around her waist, and he called out something she couldn't hear above the sound of the rushing wind.

  This is freedom, Sheila thought. Not worrying about school or parents or any of the hundreds of perfectly boring things she used to worry about—just racing the wind, and knowing that whatever happened to her in this world would be an adventure.

  When Wildwing finally stopped at the entrance to the canyon, Sheila's arms were trembling from holding on so tightly. Behind her, Darian's grip on her waist loosened, and she heard him draw a deep breath.

  "That was great," she said, turning to look at him.

  "Yeah. Great." He gave her a curious look. "Didn't you hear me shouting at you?"

  She shook her head. "I couldn't hear anything over the wind. What'd you say?"

  "I told you to slow down."

  "Oh, that was helpful advice," Sheila said, grinning. "Do you really think I could have slowed him if I wanted to?" She slid off Wildwing and ran her hand along the unicorn's jaw.

  "I don't know," Darian said, "but it didn't seem like you were trying very hard."

  "Of course not." Sheila gave the unicorn a conspira­tor's wink. "It was too much fun."

  * * *

  As Sheila and Darian walked the unicorn into the camp, Sheila saw that Dian had indeed returned, and the women were eagerly experimenting with her purchases. Most of them stood by the edge of the stream in the last light of the day, staring at their reflections as they draped and arranged the material over themselves.

  Sheila stopped short at the weird scene. She had never thought she would see this hardened band of warriors mak­ing such a fuss over themselves. Even Myno was holding a piece of saffron yellow cloth to her, as if to see whether or not it complemented her red hair. It did.

  Pelu ran up to them, folds of pale blue cloth draped over her arm. "Can you believe it?" she asked. "We're actually going to look respectable again. I can't wait to see Myno in that saffron."

  "I can't believe this," Sheila said. "They're all acting like…”

  "Like women?" Pelu asked with a laugh. “There’s nothing that says we can't be seasoned warriors and still like pretty new clothes."

  "I guess," Sheila admitted, but somehow this didn't fit her image of the riders.

  Pelu held the light blue cloth up against Darian. "No, I don't think it's quite your color," she teased, and was rewarded with a scowl She turned to Sheila, trying to keep a straight face. "You'd better go down to the water and pick out something for yourself before it's all taken."

  After her part in "buying" the cloth, Sheila would have been very happy never to have to look at the stuff again. As much as she wanted to get out of the horrible tent dress, she had no desire to wear the fabric she had almost gotten captured for.

  "I think I'll just change into my old tunic," Sheila said, heading back to where her tent with Kara had stood the night before. There were a few things she wanted to think about anyway—like whether or not she would have to return to Ansar to find Dr. Reit.

  With a smile Sheila realized that a small, neatly lashed lean-to had replaced the tent. Sheila's sleeping roll had been carefully laid out in its shadow, and Kara sat beside it, her braid hanging over her shoulder, as she concen­trated on restringing one of her bows.

  "Did you have a good time in Ansar?" Kara asked without looking up.

  "I wouldn't exactly call it a good time. But we got the material.''

  "You mean Dian got the material.'' Kara finished stringing her bow and tossed her long braid over her back. When she looked up at Sheila, her eyes were hard with anger. "Dian told us you went back to pay the merchant. That was honest—and foolish. And it was even more fool­ish of Darian to go after you on Wildwing. We cannot afford such heroism from either of you. Do you understand me?"

  Sheila couldn't believe what she hearing. Kara had never snapped at her before. In fact, except for an archery lesson when Sheila had been even more uncoordinated than usual, she had never seen Kara look irritated. Among the riders Kara was known for her unshakable calm.

  "Do you understand?" Kara repeated.

  "I wasn't trying to be heroic," Sheila replied stiffly. "I thought if we didn't pay the man, there was more risk we'd be caught as thieves."

  "There's less risk of being caught the farther you are from Ansar. You should never have gone back." Kara's face paled. “They could have gotten you, too."

  Sheila had no answer for that. She knew Kara was talking about her younger sister Lianne, who had been captured by Dynasian's soldiers. Lianne was the reason Kara had joined the riders. As Illyria had sworn to free the unicorns, Kara had sworn to find and free her sister. Sheila knew Kara had been sick with disappointment when no one had been able to find a trace of Lianne in Cam­pora. She wondered if there was any possibility that the girl was in Ansar.

  Kara stood up abruptly, as if impatient with the whole conversation. "And get out of that ridiculous dress. You're lucky yo
u didn't have to fight in that thing."

  "Whew!" Sheila breathed as the archer stalked away. She changed back into her cutoffs and Darian's ragged tunic and then went to help with dinner.

  The riders took turns at various chores, and this week both Sheila and Nanine were assigned to prepare the fire for the evening meal. Starting the fire usually wasn’t so bad, but it was always a pain to draw enough water to boil for cooking and cleaning up afterward.

  Sheila reached the fire pit and found Darian edging it with stones. "Nanine's busy sewing," he explained. "So Illyria volunteered me as her substitute. I'll go get the water if you'll start the fire,"

  Sheila pulled a flint and a small piece of iron from the leather drawstring pouch that hung from her waist. When she had first been asked to help with the fires, she had "cheated" by using the matches that had been in her backpack. Now she had exactly five matches left, and she knew better than to waste them on anything less than an emergency. With a sigh, she gathered a small pyramid of twigs on the ground and then began to strike the flint and iron together. This always took patience.

  She had just gotten the first sparks from the flint when she heard the unicorns' shrill warning. The animals who had been at the stream's edge were suddenly moving to­ward the mouth of the canyon. And within an instant every rider had responded to their call. Without thinking, Sheila drew her knife and scanned the canyon walls, look­ing for a sign of the enemy. Nanine, Pelu, and Myno, who were already close to the canyon's entry, had their spears drawn. The unicorns moved in behind them in restless formation. Morning Star's horn was lowered, ready to charge. The stallions, Quiet Storm and Wildwing heading them, were rearing up, their forelegs lashing out in angry challenge.

  Pelu turned to the herd, her eyes flashing. "No," she told them, "we'll handle this one on our own.”

  After Illyria, Pelu seemed to have the most influence over the animals, but no one could be sure of the unicorns' response. As much as they seemed to like and want to help the riders, they were creatures of the wild. Pelu looked slightly surprised when they quieted at her command. But the animals remained where they were, and it was clear that they would need little provocation to charge.

  Cautiously the three riders went forward, their spears before them. Sheila watched them disappear into the mouth of the canyon. For a long moment there was silence. Then Pelu, Nanine, and Myno reappeared, and in their midst was a tall, muscular man with long red hair that streamed down past his shoulders. He wore a simple tunic, unadorned except for a gold clasp on the shoulder. He looked unimpressed by the three spears pointed at his throat.

  Illyria, her sword drawn, pushed her way through the crowd of unicorns and riders. "Who are you?" she de­manded

  The stranger motioned to the spears at his throat.

  "Let him speak," she ordered.

  The three warriors raised their spears slightly, and as they did the unicorns again prepared to fight.

  "Please," he said, addressing the unicorns as much as the riders, "I come unarmed."

  Illyria ignored the stranger for a moment, absorbed in the animals and whatever it was they were trying to tell her. She walked over to Quiet Storm, who danced ner­vously at the head of the herd. Speaking in a low voice, she managed to calm him and the others.

  Then she turned to Myno. "Check him for weapons.”

  The stranger was searched. As he had said, he was unarmed.

  "This is a warm welcome from comrades," he com­mented when Myno had done with him.

  "Comrades?" The unicorn queen's voice was icy with contempt. "You haven't even told us who you are.”

  "I haven't been given much of a chance," he an­swered evenly. "My name is Nemor. I was a captain in Dynasian's armies. I led the Ninth Regiment." He hesi­tated a moment, as if seeing the past he described. "My troops won him many conquests. We took cities, villages, farms, captives . . . always captives. After a while, I be­came sickened by what I saw . . . and what I did. Finally I left Dynasian, but I'd spent my entire life fighting, and I grew bored without battles. I decided I would fight the tyrant himself. For the last two years I have led a band of rebels called the Sareen."

  Yvere had said he would find them, and now here he was. Like the other riders, Sheila measured the man who claimed to lead the rebel forces. He was the kind of man she had come to recognize as belonging solely to this world. No matter how hard a guy from her time worked out, there was no way he could look quite like this. Ne­mor's tall frame was lean and muscled, and his arms bore the unmistakable scars of battle. He had the same "coiled" quality Sheila saw in Illyria and Kara, and some­times in Darian—as if at any moment, from any position, he could explode, unleashing his power. If a man like Ne­mor was not an ally, he would be dangerous indeed.

  Apparently, Illyria had come to the same conclusion, "I have heard of the Sareen," she told him, "but why should I believe you are their leader?"

  "Lady," he answered softly, "you are not the only one with a price on your head. I come to your camp unarmed. All you need do is turn me over to the nearest soldier, and you would be rewarded with enough gold to"—he looked at the scruffy armed band that surrounded him—"to deck yourselves in jewels.''

  "We don't need jewels," Myno told him.

  "That's good," Nemor said with a hint of a smile. "I was not counting on being turned in by my allies. I came unarmed, at substantial risk, to prove to you that I am not an enemy.”

  "That doesn't prove anything," said Kara.

  "If you're a friend," Illyria said, "then tell me how you found us."

  Nemor gestured again to the spears that were still aimed at his throat. "I promise I'll answer all your ques­tions, but can't we at least talk in a friendlier manner?"

  Sheila couldn't help smiling. The riders were not giv­ing Nemor an easy time of it, yet he refused to be riled.

  Illyria nodded and Nemor was led into the camp, where he and Illyria sat in front of her tent.

  "Now," he began, "as to how I found you . . . I am skilled at tracking; it's something I've done since I was a child. And I had help from the people who know that the Sareen also seek to free the unicorns. There are over a hundred who fight with me, and many others who do not fight but aid us with food, shelter, and information."

  A hundred To Sheila, who was now used to the idea of fighting with a band of eight, the number was dizzying.

  "With so many fighters of your own, what could you possibly want of us?" Illyria asked.

  Nemor smiled, and Sheila realized how handsome he was. He had strong, broad cheekbones, and sparkling eyes that were nearly amber. His mane of red hair was streaked with gold, his skin tanned to a deep bronze. She began to understand the name "Warriors of the Sun." Nemor looked like some barbaric sun god, even in the simple brown tunic that wasn't in much better shape than her own.

  “What I want," Nemor said, answering Illyria's ques­tion, "is to take Dynasian's fortress. You know he holds unicorns there, We can free them and break his hold on Ansar. There are two ways into the fortress—one is the road he has carved; the other is a footpath up the side of the mountain that few men know of." He laughed sound­lessly. "Dynasian has a nasty habit of killing anyone who discovers the second route. I mean to take that route and throw open the gates to the Sareen. When I do, I want your riders and the unicorns to be the first through the gates, launching the attack." He eyed Quiet Storm with interest. "I have heard the unicorns are unmatched in battle. Even with a hundred men, I will need all the allies I can get if we're to have a chance of defeating Dynasian. We would make strong allies, Lady."

  For a few moments there was only the sound of the stream running, cold and clear and having nothing to do with battles or tyrants.

  "It's a bold plan," Illyria said at last.

  Nemor shrugged. "I know of no subtle way to storm a fortress,''

  She laughed at that. "Well said. But I don't order my riders into missions. This is something that they will have to choose. Give us two days and I'll have an answer f
or you."

  "That's too long," Nemor said. "I'll send for your an­swer tomorrow night."

  Sheila couldn't be quite sure how it happened, but somewhere during that last exchange the power had shifted from Illyria to Nemor. It made her uneasy, and at the same time it made her admire Nemor even more. She had never seen anyone best the Unicorn Queen.

  Nemor stood up with a smooth, animal grace. "I'll leave you now." With a slight inclination of his head he bowed to Illyria, and then began to walk toward the mouth of the canyon. He stopped for a moment as he passed Quiet Storm. "You are a beauty," he said, holding his hand out for the animal to sniff.

  The unicorn tossed his head angrily, his silver horn nearly slicing open Nemor's hand. But the stranger moved with lightning reflexes and pulled his hand back before the unicorn could touch him.

  “You're lucky you move quickly, Nemor. Still, if I were you, I wouldn't get so close.'' Illyria's soft warning held a note of mockery that took back whatever advantage Ne­mor had held.

  He turned to her, still remarkably calm. "As you say, Lady." Then with another bow he left the camp.

  6

  Practice

  Sheila rolled over on her side, trying to find a comfortable hollow for her shoulder. She was used to sleeping on the ground, but tonight she was restless. Maybe it was because Kara hadn't yet returned to the lean-to. She, Myno, and Nanine had been cloistered in Illyria's tent ever since Ne­mor had left the camp. Sheila wondered if Kara was still angry with her. She hoped not; she was dying to ask her what they were going to do about Nemor's offer.

  There was a soft sound Sheila couldn't identify, and then someone sat down next to her Sheila bolted up with a start.

  "Relax," Kara said with a laugh. "It's just me.”

  Kara had taught herself to move soundlessly, which was great until she materialized out of the night beside you. Then it was positively spooky. The archer began to unlace a sandal. "Sorry, I forgot you're not used to it."