The Secret Of The Unicorn Queen - Sun Blind

by Unknown

  Suddenly the surface of the pond began to cloud over. Sheila looked up quickly. The skies were clear; it wasn't a reflection. But an image was being formed in the water.

  Darian sank to his knees, cradling his broken arm. "Illyria?" His voice was a hoarse whisper.

  Sheila knelt beside him. The reflection of the moon had disappeared. In its place was a startlingly clear picture of Illyria entering a tent. Nemor followed close behind her. Illyria looked irritated and Nemor, exasperated. Sheila had a hunch that they were not getting along.

  "I know you don't trust me," Nemor was saying, "but perhaps this will convince you of my intent." He crossed the tent, took a roll of parchment from the corner, and carefully opened it on a broad wooden table.

  "Stars above!" Darian swore. They were staring at a detailed drawing of a mountain whose top had been leveled. A steep road had been cut into the side that faced the city of Ansar. What couldn't be seen from the city was the huge stone fortress that had been built on the mountaintop. Like the city, the fortress was surrounded by a stone wall.

  Nemor pointed to the top of the wall. "There are guards posted here and here and here. No one can get up that road without being seen."

  "You said there was another route," Illyria reminded him.

  Nemor unrolled a second drawing. This one showed the side of the mountain that faced away from Ansar.

  Sheila stared at it, puzzled. Although the drawing was detailed, all she saw was the side of a mountain with craggy and smooth rocks. She did not see anything that resem­bled a path.

  "Here." Nemor's finger traced a line that ran up the steepest part of the mountain, "It's not what you'd call a road. It may not even qualify as a path, but it will get me up undetected and it's close to this gate. Once I'm inside the wall, I'll throw open the western gate, the one that opens to the road, to the Sareen and you and your riders. Then it's only a matter of a good, strong attack."

  "Then it's only a matter of Dynasian destroying you.” Darian translated. "I can't stand watching her agree to this."

  "She has to free the unicorns," Sheila said, knowing that Illyria would not refuse a way into the fortress.

  The Unicorn Queen studied the map with interest. How do you plan to get over the wall?"

  Nemor's voice was soft and chilling. "Treachery. I've planted my men among Dynasian's. They will help me.”

  "You mean us." Illyria nearly laughed as his eyes wid­ened in astonishment. They were the color of amber, eyes like a lion's. "I'm not asking my riders to attack Dyna­sian's fortress unless I can personally guarantee that the gates will be open for them, If you want our help, you'll have to take me with you."

  “He's going to kill her," Darian said. "And she's mak­ing it easy for him. All he has to do is push her off when they're climbing. Or give her to the soldiers on the wall. Or-"

  "Sshhh!" Sheila cut him off as Illyria asked a short question: "When?"

  Nemor's answer took them all by surprise. "Tomorrow. The longer we wait, the longer Dynasian has to uncover our plan. We'll start the climb before sunrise—the heat makes it impossible during the day. Given the time it will take us to get up the mountain, we should have our troops attack at midday."

  "Tomorrow?" Sheila echoed hollowly. "How will we ever get to her in time?"

  Darian groaned, and the mist that had not touched the pond now floated across its surface in a gauzy cloud. It cleared a few moments later and left only the reflection of the full, white moon floating in the still black water.

  Sheila put a hand on Darian's shoulder and tried to think of something comforting to say. She noticed that neither she nor Darian nor Quiet Storm were reflected in the water, and the strangeness of it unnerved her. What was it they had just seen—the past, the future, or the pres­ent? And was it even real? In this world it could easily be just another illusion, one of Valan's tricks. Clearly, they had seen what they were meant to see. Now she wanted to get out of this place fast.

  She stood up and ran her hand along Quiet Storm's flank, "Will you take us to Illyria?" she asked.

  Quiet Storm whipped his head away with an angry snort.

  "I think he just refused," Sheila said.

  Darian stood up. "He probably doesn't know how to get out of this place, either." He turned slowly. “It’s the same in every direction. Just more trees. And it goes on for miles. You'd have to be a bird to find a way out.''

  "Darian"-Sheila's voice suddenly filled with a wild hope-"I think our way out just arrived." Against the moonlit sky she could make out a flock of eagles swooping down through the grove. They flew in a broad V forma­tion, each bird the size of a man.

  Quiet Storm lifted his head and called out in greeting, which was immediately returned by the eagle that flew at the head of the group.

  They settled on the edge of the pond. In the light of the full moon there was a stirring of the great wings and then their bodies blurred. If Sheila hadn't seen the transformation once before, she would have thought it a trick of the moonlight and mist. But the eagles were gone, and she and Darian were now staring at a band of stalwart warriors clad for battle.

  A fierce-eyed young man, his long, black hair held back by a silver circlet, stepped out from the mist and laid a hand on the unicorn s neck.

  Quiet Storm gave a nervous whinny.

  "I know," the man said soothingly, "and I will help you. I promise."

  He turned to Sheila and Darian. "It has been a long time, my friends."

  Sheila thought she would collapse with relief. The handsome warrior who stood before them was Laric, prince of Perian, and Illyria's love.

  "Laric?" Darian sounded as if he was sure he was hal­lucinating.

  "One and the same." The prince made a sweeping gesture with his red cloak. "You are welcome in this grove." He frowned at the two teenagers before him. "Though I would dearly love to know how you found it.''

  Sheila opened her mouth to explain, but Laric shook his head. "You can tell me later. Neither of you is going anywhere until Quiet Storm is free of the spell that holds him, and-"

  "But Illyria's in danger!" Darian broke in angrily.

  "I know that," Laric said with a sigh. "Believe me, if we are to help her, we will need Quiet Storm with us." He gave the unicorn a worried look. "He came here for help, and I will do what I can, but the spell that binds him is a powerful one. He's just lucky it was never com­pleted. Something must have interrupted whoever cast it."

  "Someone," Sheila said. "It was Darian."

  Laric's eyes traveled to the boy's splinted arm. "And that was your payment?"

  Darian nodded.

  "Well, perhaps I can do something about that, too," Laric said. ''But first, let me work on Quiet Storm.”

  Laric led the unicorn to a spot at the center point of four great trees and began an incantation.

  Sheila and Darian waited with Laric's men. Sheila's eyes never left Laric. He was without question the most gorgeous man she had ever seen. When he was a man, that is. She wondered how Illyria could bear being in love with a man cursed to live in another form.

  The prince raised his left hand and traced a circle around the unicorn's head, then another around the gleaming silver horn. All the while he spoke words of magic. After what seemed like an eternity to Sheila, Laric left the unicorn and came to sit beside her.

  "So," he said, "how have you been, traveler from an­other world?"

  Sheila blushed furiously. ''Fine,'' she said.

  "But your queen is not. Tell me what happened."

  So Sheila told him all that had gone on and what she and Darian had just seen in the pond.

  Laric listened silently as she poured out the whole story, but Sheila could feel him tense with fury.

  "This is worse than I guessed," he said, getting to his feet. "We must go to her at once, but there is the matter of the spells. . . . Quiet Storm is not yet free, and to reach Illyria in time, I will have to lay a spell of my own on him. And I cannot do that until Valan's magic is gone." H
e gazed up at the full moon and sighed. "And all this before sunrise.”

  "Then what we saw in the pond was real?" Sheila asked. "Not just some illusion?"

  ''First of all,'' Laric said dryly, ''it is not a pond. It is a scrying pool. Secondly, scrying pools are not capable of illusion. They reveal visions of reality to those who are ready for them. You may trust it completely."

  He turned toward Darian. “Come. We must heal your arm. At least I will not waste the time we have."

  Sheila watched as Laric carefully loosened the sling and removed the splint from Darian's arm. Gently he felt the break. "It's been skillfully set," he said. "Now we must ask it to knit faster." Holding Darian's arm between his hands, he murmured words in a language Sheila had never heard before.

  Darian watched curiously.

  "There will be some pain," said the prince, "but it will not last. Don't move your arm.

  As Laric spoke Darian's face whitened and he shut his eyes. Sheila slipped her hand into his, and he clenched it so tightly she thought she might need to be healed as well.

  "There." Laric released Darian's arm. He, too, was pale. "Now, turn your wrist.”

  On Laric's instructions Darian moved his arm through a series of exercises, the expression on his face changing from doubt to wonder to sheer delight.

  “Yes, it will do," said Laric gruffly. "But don't tackle any more mages if you can possibly avoid it."

  Darian's grin faded. “What you just did . . . that was no ordinary healing. You are a mage as well?" Though phrased as a question, it was a statement.

  Laric shrugged. "Perian is not like your country. There, everyone is taught magic from childhood. And since I was raised in the palace, I was taught a bit more than others. Among your people it may be impressive. In my own land I am far from the rank of a true mage." He gave a bitter laugh. "And the proof is that I am unable to break Mardock's curse.”

  "But you brought Quiet Storm to Illyria," Sheila said. No matter what Laric thought, the coming of the unicorns was impressive.

  The prince smiled. "I like unicorns," he said simply. "Illyria saved my life, and I didn't know if I'd ever see her again. Quiet Storm was the best gift I could leave her. And now I should see to him so I can send him back,"

  "Wait," Darian said. "Just one more thing. This grove what is it?''

  Laric hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure he should answer.

  "Yesterday we rode past the end of the canyon," Sheila said. "And yesterday there wasn't an olive grove here."

  "This grove has nothing to do with time or place," Laric answered. "It does not lie within Dynasian's empire. And that's all I can tell you." He smiled and brushed a strand of auburn hair out of her eyes. "You should be used to strange travels by now, child of another time."

  One of Laric's men joined them. “We've prepared places for you two to sleep," he said. "You will only have time for a nap, but Laric will be awhile with Quiet Storm and you should get what rest you can.

  When Sheila turned for a last glimpse of Laric, she saw him working over Quiet Storm, both of them glowing in a haze of white light.

  * * *

  Sheila dreamed of Morning Star. She dreamed that Morn­ing Star stood at the side of the scrying pool and dipped her black horn into its smooth depths. The pool began to cloud over . . . and Sheila sat upright, shaking herself awake. If it was possible to receive a message in your dreams, she was sure that Morning Star was trying to tell her to go to the scrying pool.

  Most of Laric's men were sleeping and she didn't want to wake them. But she did wake Darian, and together they returned to the edge of the pool. Morning Star was, of course, nowhere in sight. But the pool was clouded over as it had been in her dream.

  At first they didn't recognize the image that formed in the black water, for the scene that was revealed was very dark.

  ''It's the mountain," Darian said. "Dynasian's moun­tain.''

  The wind caused the surface of the pool to ripple, and then Sheila and Darian could make out two human forms in the night, looking impossibly small against the massive wall of rock.

  “Illyria and Nemor,'' said Laric, coming to stand be­side them. "And it is dark on the mountain, as it is here. We are seeing the present."

  They saw Nemor leading Illyria up the wall. Nemor moved up the steep rock face as surely as if he had climbed it a thousand times. He never placed a foot or hand awk­wardly. Illyria followed, not quite as adept, but easily hold­ing her own.

  Laric studied the image and drew a sharp breath, "He wears the krino," he said. "And there is something else. Do you see the way he moves—he has the lion's energy."

  Sheila had always thought Nemor looked somewhat leonine, and it made him all the more attractive. "So?" she asked.

  "Throughout time the lion and the unicorn have been deadly enemies," Laric answered. "When they meet, only one of them will survive. Dynasian could have not chosen a more lethal agent."

  And yet, for all the danger she was in, Illyria seemed to be doing rather well, Though the wall of rock grew increasingly steep, she followed Nemor without hesita­tion. About halfway up, they stood together on a ledge that Sheila figured was all of four inches wide,

  The rebel leader turned to Illyria and put a hand under her chin. "You are very beautiful, Lady," he said softly.

  Sheila thought she saw compassion in his eyes. "Are you sure you want to continue?"

  Illyria shook off his touch. "I said that I would enter the fortress with you. I don't go back on my word. Do you?"

  His voice was gentle when he answered. "I did not ask you to make this climb. There would be no disgrace in changing your mind."

  "Do you want me to lead the way?" Illyria asked mockingly.

  Nemor growled something unintelligible and moved on.

  Sheila, Darian, and Laric watched, fascinated and helpless.

  The full moon paled and the sun rose, and still Nemor and Illyria climbed. Soon the top of the mountain was in sight.

  "Sunrise," Laric said, pulling himself away from the vision in the scrying pool. "Quiet Storm should be ready for you now.”

  Quiet Storm stood at the center of the four trees, look­ing calm and attentive. He nuzzled Laric affectionately as the prince laid a hand on his neck.

  "You've cured him," Sheila said.

  Laric smiled wearily. "That and a little more. Get on both of you. He will take you to Illyria.''

  "He'll know how to get us out of this place?" Sheila asked uncertainly. In the gray dawn light the grove seemed to go on endlessly in all directions. Wherever she looked she saw only the thick, gnarled trees and, between them, wide stretches of grass.

  It was Darian who answered. "That's Quiet Storm's gift. He always knows exactly where to go.

  "He will bring you safely to Illyria," Laric agreed, "but you must leave now, for the journey from this place is a long one. . . . And you will not be traveling as you ex­pect." He murmured a few words of enchantment to the unicorn.

  Sheila and Darian watched open-mouthed as Quiet Storm lifted his front legs and leaped upward into the air. He didn't come down. He ran above them, frisking like a young colt, his silver cloven hoofs darting in and out of the treetops.

  "That's enough," Laric said sternly.

  The unicorn returned to earth at once, looking not at all chastened.

  "Get on," the prince urged them. "We will follow you."

  Darian mounted first, then Sheila in front of him. Both were too surprised to say anything at all. Laric spoke a few more words to the unicorn, and then Quiet Storm leaped into the air and flew straight toward the sunrise.

  12

  The Siege

  Quiet Storm ran on the wind, his hoofs leaving faint silver streaks against the sky, his mane streaming out behind him. Sheila held on, awed by the dizzying landscape be­low. At first there had been endless miles of the ancient trees, as if the olive grove were a country unto itself. Then, when the sun was nearly at its zenith, there was a flash of light so bright th
at both Darian and Sheila had to shut their eyes. When they opened them again, the grove was gone and they were soaring over the city of Ansar. Behind them the eagles flew, a fierce winged guard.

  Sheila suppressed a shiver as they neared Dynasian's mountain. It seemed as if the mountain lay in wait for them. One of the eagles darted below Quiet Storm's hoofs and ahead. Tracing the bird's flight, Sheila saw that the eagle was calling to a small band of warriors galloping down the road that led to the mountain.

  "There are the riders!" she called to Darian above the sound of the wind.

  There was no sign of the Sareen, but the riders were on their way to the fortress with the wild unicorns behind them. Sheila knew that they would soon be climbing the road that wound up the mountain—exactly as Nemor had planned.

  Quiet Storm turned, heading for the other side of the mountain, the side that Illyria and Nemor had scaled.

  Sheila looked desperately for a sign of the Unicorn Queen. Was it possible that she and Nemor were still climbing?

  "There!” Darian called.

  Quiet Storm hovered in the air above the scene. Ne­mor stood just inside the surrounding wall, looking up at Illyria, who crouched on its top. Obviously, they had just reached the top of the mountain and were about to enter the fortress.

  Sheila held her breath as Illyria dropped from the top of the wall to stand beside Nemor. She could see them talking, and then there was a flash of bright metal and Illyria was behind Nemor, her knife drawn across his throat. Without protest Nemor began to walk toward the fortress.

  "Don't go inside!" Sheila screamed. “1t's a trap!"

  "She can't hear you. We're too far away!" Darian said furiously as a door in the fortress opened and Illyria and Nemor vanished inside. "Can't you make Quiet Storm land?"

  Sheila knew how to get a unicorn to walk, canter, or gallop, but she couldn't imagine what signal she was sup­posed to use to make Quiet Storm start his descent. She pressed her knees and heels against his sides. She tugged on his mane. She leaned forward and explained exactly what she wanted him to do. The unicorn gave no sign of understanding.