“No wonder he’s so busy!”
“Oh, there aren’t that many of us. It’s the adventures of the unicorns that really keep him busy. Anyway, you’ll find our marriage listed there. Now, it is possible that after Ivy returned to Earth — ” Jacques broke off, a pained expression twisting his features, and turned away from her for a moment. “I suppose it is possible you are not my blood granddaughter,” he whispered. When he turned back to her his face calmer. “That makes no difference to me. You are the grandchild of Ivy Morris. I was once the husband of Ivy Morris. As far as I am concerned, that makes you my grandchild.”
Suddenly Cara realized that the unicorns had not told the Players the true nature of their quest. “Do you know what we’re doing?” she asked softly. “Where we’re going?”
Jacques shook his head.
“I am returning to Earth . . . in order to fetch my grandmother back to Luster.”
A stricken look crossed Jacques’ face. “Are you sure the Wanderer wants to return?”
“The last thing Gramma Morris said to me before I jumped into Luster was ‘Find the Old One. Tell her’ ” — Cara faltered for a moment, just as her grandmother had, then went on — “ ‘Tell her, “The Wanderer is weary.” ’ ”
Jacques nodded. “Then she is ready to come back.” In his voice Cara heard such an odd mixture of relief and sorrow, hope and pain, longing and anger, that she could make no sense of it.
“Why did Gramma go back to Earth to begin with?” she asked. “I wouldn’t have if I were her. I wouldn’t now, if I didn’t have to go get her. I love it here.”
“As did she,” replied Jacques. “But what you love and what you feel you must do are sometimes different things. More than that, I cannot say. It is your grandmother’s story. I will not tell it for her.”
Cara rolled her eyes, but Jacques caught her hand and said urgently, “I know that is frustrating to hear. But this is a matter of honor and trust. It is not my story to tell.”
Cara held herself stiff for a moment, then relaxed. “All right,” she said. “I understand.”
Which was almost true.
* * *
When the other Players learned Jacques was leaving them, there was a great deal of hugging and crying that had to be accomplished before they would let him depart.
Finder stood next to Cara while this was going on. “Look at Moonheart,” the big unicorn whispered.
Cara glanced over at their leader. His nostrils were flared, his eyes hard, his mouth set in a grimace of annoyance.
“He doesn’t like sentimental good-byes,” said Finder.
When the farewells were finally over, the two groups headed their separate ways. As they walked north along the riverbank, Cara listened to the singing of the Players grow dim behind them; even after the last voices had faded, she could hear the slight boom of their drum.
Finally even that was gone.
She looked around her and smiled. What an odd group they made! Three unicorns, three humans, and a Squijum. Even in her wildest daydreams back on Earth she had never imagined that someday she would be trekking across another world, a world of unicorns, in such company. But maybe this was the life of a Wanderer — or at least the granddaughter of a Wanderer.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the Squijum, who came bouncing up from behind, scrambled onto her shoulder, and began chattering in her ear.
* * *
She walked beside Jacques off and on during the day, drawn to him, but distrustful as well. It was as if her heart was at war with itself: part of it wanting to accept him at once as her grandfather; another part holding back, fearful, thinking only that here was one more person who could abandon her, betray her.
For his part, he looked sad each time she stepped away from him — or, more precisely, sadder than usual, since his normal look was one of melancholy. That changed whenever she returned to his side. Then his eyes would brighten, and a smile would struggle, briefly, across his well-creased face.
They did not talk much, though late in the day she began to tell him some of the adventures that had befallen her since she’d crossed into Luster. He listened solemnly. When she told him about her confrontation with her father, he put his arm around her shoulder and drew her to him, as if wishing he had some way to ease her memories.
Their path took them upward for most of the day. By the time they emerged from the woods into a high, rocky area, Cara’s legs were aching. The afternoon sun was dropping lower in the sky to their left when the travelers began to follow a track that led along the edge of a drop so deep it made Cara uneasy to look at the river below.
* * *
Evening was falling fast as the path dipped into forest once again. It was much darker under the trees than it had been in the open, and the travelers had gone only a little way into the woods when they decided they should stop for the night.
Cara was glancing around for a good resting place when she heard something rustling in the darkness. She reached for Finder. A twig snapped somewhere off to her right.
“What was — ”
Her words were cut off by a hideous screech as a band of delvers burst from the underbrush. They were only about three feet tall, but there were well over a dozen of them, all clutching short spears. In the dim light their enormous eyes seemed almost to glow in their oversized heads.
Immediately the three unicorns positioned themselves around the humans. At the same time, Cara put her hand to the blade M’Gama had given her. Her heart pounded with fear. She had been attacked by a delver only moments after she’d first arrived in Luster, and she remembered too clearly the feeling of the little monster’s wiry hands around her throat.
The delvers rushed forward. Cara’s fear turned to stark terror when they began chanting “Get her! Get her! Get her!”
The unicorns reared and kicked, their cloven hooves slashing through the air like silvery knives.
The first blow was struck by Moonheart, who caught one of the delvers on the shoulder. With a shriek, the murderous creature dropped his spear and staggered back, his arm hanging uselessly at his side.
The other delvers fell away for a second, then rushed forward again. Shrieking louder than ever, they jabbed viciously at the unicorns’ bellies with their spears.
Belle spun and kicked backward, sending two of the screaming monsters flying into the brush.
Cara watched, trembling with terror, rage, and frustration. The Squijum, clinging to her neck, cried encouragement to the unicorns: “Gittem, gittem, gittem! Hittem, unicorns! Hittem hard!”
Beside her, Thomas was fumbling with one of his many watches, muttering angrily to himself about not being better prepared. Jacques had drawn a knife from his tunic. He kept trying to position himself to protect Cara, but that was almost impossible, since the delvers were attacking from all sides.
Cara drew her sword. The hilt was cold in her hand. She held it before her, ready to slash, wishing desperately that she knew more about using it.
Suddenly the manikins set up a weird cry, a piercing ululation that was one of the most horrifying sounds she had ever heard. She dropped her blade and clapped her hands to her ears, trying to shut out the delvers’ screeching, which seemed to slice into her like a living knife. She could see the unicorns shaking their heads violently, as if trying to drive the cries from their ears.
A half dozen of the delvers stopped chanting. While the rest continued their weird cries, these six tightened their grips on their spears and started forward. Belle trumpeted in rage. Dashing toward them, she struck one down with her hooves.
The others fell back. But the horrible chanting continued and Cara could see that it was making it hard for the unicorns to focus on the battle.
“Aha!” cried Thomas in sudden triumph. “This should do the trick.” Fingers working frantically, he wound one of his many watches, then held it up and flipped open the lid.
As if sound itself had vanished fro
m the world, a complete and utter silence fell over the battle. The delvers looked so baffled — their huge eyes goggling in shock as their mouths moved, but produced no sound — that Cara couldn’t help but laugh.
To her astonishment, no sound came from her own mouth, either.
Thomas winked at her. The unicorns took advantage of the delvers’ surprise to rush at them. The silence of the fighting that followed — the absolute lack of cries of anger or shrieks of pain, of trumpets, whinnies, or shouts, of even the sound of feet and hooves — was eerie. Cara couldn’t even hear the Squijum, though he was still on her shoulder, shaking his paws at the enemy and clearly shouting all sorts of scathing insults.
For a time it looked as if the unicorns would win. Their flying feet and snapping mouths — more vicious in battle than Cara would have thought possible — kept the enemy at bay. But they were hampered by fighting in the woodland, where the obstructing trees gave an advantage to their small foes.
Then Finder stumbled — tripped over a delver, actually — and fell to the ground. This was all the delvers needed. In an instant they were swarming over the big unicorn like ants on a sweet. And in the silence created by Thomas’s spell, neither Belle nor Moonheart could hear his desperate whinnies, nor Cara’s cry or rage and horror.
Snatching up her blade from where she had dropped it when the delver chant began, Cara raced forward to help Finder. Before she could reach him, more delvers burst through the opening created by Finder’s fall and began leaping to attack Belle and Moonheart.
Cara lashed out with her blade. Despite her lack of training, her first swing struck home. The feel of the blade as it entered delver flesh, the spurt of green blood, made her stomach turn. But her rage at these creatures who attacked her and her friends overwhelmed the fear and disgust.
With a ferocious cry she pulled the blade free. Two other delvers took the place of the one she had struck down. Clutching her sword as hard as she could, she swung at them,.
At the same time, more delvers poured toward them.
Thomas clapped his watch closed, dropping it to dangle at his side. Sound flooded scene of the battle, sudden as an unexpected thunder clap. But now the noise was all wild and chaotic. The delver chant was done, the little monsters too absorbed in the fight to continue their evil chorus.
Thomas pulled another watch from his pocket, swung it around his head, and lashed at the delvers with it. Wherever it struck, Cara could hear the hiss of burning flesh. Jacques shouted wildly from behind her. Before she could turn, he came handspringing past her, into the midst of the delvers. He landed on his feet and began slashing about him with a short blade while the delvers stabbed at him with their spears.
All this Cara saw in a flash. Then her attention was all on her own fight, for the delvers were after her as well. She continued to slash out with the sword M’Gama had given her, wishing as she did that she knew something, anything, about how to use it properly. Even so, she was able to keep the monsters at bay, and severely wound more than one of them.
It was not enough. Soon a delver grabbed her from behind, pulling her arms back with a fierce yank. Her shoulders bursting with pain, she cried out and dropped her blade. That didn’t stop her from also kicking out, and the delver in front of her fell with a surprised cry.
With a snarl, her captor tightened his grip on her arms. He swung her around.
Cara cried out in astonishment.
10
New Arrivals
Racing out of the forest, exploding into the battle, came Lightfoot. Not far behind the unicorn, slower but plowing ahead like a living tank, was the shaggy, bear-like form of the Dimblethum.
The unexpected attack from a new flank started the delvers shrieking and wailing. The Dimblethum, roaring with rage, flung the little creatures about like rag dolls. Lightfoot snatched one from Belle’s back with his teeth and sent it crashing into a tree. Then he spun about and with a powerful kick from his hind legs sent another sprawling into a bush.
In the moment of surprise, Cara wrenched herself free from the delver who held her. Flinging herself to the ground, she snatched up her sword and rolled over just in time to stab upward at a delver who was about to grab her. She pierced his shoulder. He staggered back with a screech of pain.
She was on her feet at once, ready to slash about her. But the battle was over, ended as quickly as it had begun. Clearly overpowered, the delvers chose to retreat, vanishing into the darkness so quickly it was as if the ground itself had swallowed them.
For a moment, no one spoke. The first to move was Cara. Racing to Lightfoot, she flung her arms about his neck. Though Firethroat’s gift of tongues made it possible for Cara to speak to anyone in Luster, with Lightfoot she preferred to speak mind to mind.
“I’ve missed you so much!” she thought. “Thank you for coming!”
Before he could reply, Belle spoke aloud. “I told you someone has been following us!”
Moonheart nodded. “So you did. Would you care to explain why that was, nephew?” His voice was stern, disapproving.
“You might thank him first!” said Cara sharply. “He did just save our lives.”
Moonheart looked startled, then angry. But finally he said, somewhat grudgingly, “The child has a point. Our thanks. Now, answer my question.”
“I was following you because I was concerned about Cara.”
“You want me to believe that you have a sense of responsibility?” asked Moonheart scornfully. “You, who have defied your family and refused your place at court?”
“Believe what you want,” said Lightfoot, tossing his head so that his mane rippled like a wave.
“And what of him?” asked Belle, pointing her horn toward the Dimblethum. “What’s he doing here?”
The hulking creature, who seemed to be equal parts bear and man, stood a few feet behind Lightfoot. He clenched his shaggy fists and wrinkled his short muzzle when Belle asked her question, but said nothing.
“We travel together,” said Lightfoot simply.
Belle made a sound of disgust.
Now the Dimblethum did speak. “The Dimblethum, too, cares for the child,” he growled. But the words were in his own guttural language, and Cara could see that Belle and Moonheart did not understand him.
“Might I suggest we save our arguments for later?” said Finder gently. “It might be wiser to tend our wounds first. Once that’s done, we can tear each other up again if we wish.”
Lightfoot actually laughed, and the Dimblethum gave a rumbling chuckle. Moonheart scowled, but said softly, “You are correct, Finder. Let’s take stock.”
* * *
It was bad, but not as bad as they might have feared. Thomas and Jacques each had three or four stab wounds, the Dimblethum one deep cut on his side. The wounds were mostly low because the delvers were so short.
“Probably have to amputate,” said Jacques, looking at his legs gloomily. “Both of them,” he added, though the wound on his left leg was little more than a scratch.
Actually, of the humans it was Thomas who was most severely wounded, his right shoulder cut so deeply that his arm hung useless at his side.
Cara, consumed with worry about her friends, was surprised to find she had a serious wound of her own — a ragged bite mark on her left hand. She had been so involved in the fight she hadn’t even noticed it when it had happened.
The Squijum had escaped injury altogether.
The unicorns had taken the worst of it. Cara found it heartbreaking to see the way their crimson and silver blood stained their silken hides. It was mixed with delver gore, which was a muddy green color and smelled of the earth. Finder was badly hurt, though he insisted his wounds were nothing and that he would help with the healing. To Cara’s surprise, Moonheart had fared even worse. His flanks were scored with a dozen deep cuts, and bite marks peppered his neck.
“The delvers knew him for the leader, and so attacked him the most viciously,” expla
ined Thomas in a whisper as Cara bound his shoulder with a strip of cloth she had cut from her own shirt.
The four of them — Cara, Thomas, Jacques, and the Dimblethum — were sitting under a tree, watching the unicorns examine one another. Though clearly pained by the wounds on his legs, Jacques had been far more concerned about Cara’s well-being than his own. Now, finally convinced that she was all right, he was massaging his thigh while he waited for one of the unicorns to heal him. His forehead was beaded with sweat, and Cara could tell he was trying not to cry out.
As she watched the unicorns, she realized that while she still did not feel comfortable with Moonheart, there was little doubt that she owed him her life. Though when it came right down to it, she probably owed her life to each of them. In fact, remembering the cry the delvers had set up when they first attacked, she was certain that must be so.
“Thomas,” she said softly. “Did you hear what the delvers were shouting when they attacked?”
“Delvers,” growled the Dimblethum in disgust. “Dimblethum crush delvers.”
Thomas smiled, then winced as if even that small act was painful. Leaning his head back against the tree he said softly, “They were crying, ‘Get her!’ ”
Cara’s stomach tightened. “Were they talking about me?”
The answer came from Jacques, who said gloomily, “It’s possible they were after Belle. She’s known to be one of the Queen’s fiercest warriors, and the delvers probably have little love for her. But . . . I’d say it’s more likely it was indeed you they wanted.”
Cara shuddered. “Why?”
“I can see two possibilities, neither good. The first is that they know you are carrying one of the Queen’s amulets and they want it. The second, which I like even less, is that they have found out who you really are and have some reason to want you. Perhaps they are even in contact with Beloved, though I’m not certain how that could be.”
Song of the Wanderer Page 7