The atmosphere in the room changed. When she had walked in, it had been quiet and tranquil, like a room full of ghosts. But now, people were talking to one another, helping one another, explaining what was happening.
She had now met every person in that room. Everyone from the list was there. Everyone was recovering their memories, although some were slower than others.
Thandie began to realize the scale of the problem. There were dozens of people here. And they were all beginning to look to her – the leader – with a single question: ”Can we go home now?”
She just needed a moment to think. She would get the people out of this castle and as far away from here as possible, then she would stop, breathe, and formulate a plan. But there was no time. A rattling sound drew her attention to the double doors.
The handles were rattling as they twisted and turned.
Someone was trying the doors from the other side.
Tib’s flimsy catapult jiggled between the door handles, which would not hold for more than a few minutes. If it was the unicorn, then he would undo all the good that she had done here. Unless it was Sander. Thandie ran to the doors and pressed herself against the left-hand one with all the strength in her body.
“Sander?” she called, just in case, but there was no answer. There was a possibility he couldn’t hear her, but she couldn’t risk it.
“Linnell!” she shouted, “we need to get these people far away from the castle. Open the back doors. Get everyone out.”
Linnell hesitated, looked around at the sea of confused people. Her eyes were welling with tears again.
Thandie wanted to scream. She knew how confused Linnell must feel, but if the unicorn managed to get in, then they could all be recaptured. Or worse. The quest would fail and they would never be found. “Open the back doors,” she shouted to Linnell. “Now!”
Linnell ran to the glass doors and opened them easily. The unicorn had spoken the truth: they were unlocked. An icy blast of air swept into the room. “This way,” she said to the Arvale group, who wandered outside. Thandie was relieved that some people were escaping, but they were going so slowly, as if they were browsing for fruit at the market, not running for their lives.
“Hurry up, please!” she called. “I think the unicorn is coming.”
Linnell wrung her hands in front of her. “I can’t do this by myself. Help me, Thandie!”
But Thandie didn’t want to abandon her place by the door and, anyway, she couldn’t leave without Sander – not after he had saved her. She thought desperately what instructions she could give Linnell. She didn’t have a rulebook; she was making this up as she went along. And then she remembered: the steps that they’d seen outside the castle, leading back home, Sander had said. “The steps! she cried, “Go around the castle, find the steps and I will meet you there.”
At this clear instruction, Linnell seemed to find renewed purpose, and sprang into action. Thandie was too far away to hear what she was saying, but Linnell sped up, moving urgently from group to group, ushering the people through the doorway, pointing them in the right direction.
But the doors kept rattling. Thandie could feel the jolts as whoever was on the other side pushed heavily. They were going to break through – Thandie knew it – but she would be ready for them. Just as Linnell ushered the last of the stolen ones out into the swirling clouds, Thandie reached for the catapult. She freed the door handles but armed herself. The double doors burst open and Thandie was sent staggering sideways. She took a couple of steps to right herself and aimed her recovered weapon at whoever was coming through the door.
As she had suspected, it was not Sander.
But it was not the unicorn, either.
It was the interpreter.
THE INTERPRETER
Thandie
The interpreter strode through the doorway and stood, looking around at the empty room. She was taller than Thandie and her head reached nearly to the top of the doorframe. With her near-white hair, stern eyes and gauzy white dress billowing in the cold air, she made a formidable figure.
“Where have they gone?” she asked, her voice icy. Her question was aimed at Linnell, who was standing petrified by the door. The stolen ones had made it outside and Linnell could be out of the door and with them in moments. She would be free.
But Linnell just stood there.
“Just go, Linnell!” screamed Thandie. “Follow them!” but Linnell continued to stand as still as one of the ice sculptures in the throne room, staring at the interpreter.
The interpreter took a few paces towards Linnell, her long dress giving the impression that she was gliding across the floor. “You didn’t think you could get away with this, did you? My master will not be beaten by a couple of young girls. Not this time.”
The interpreter banged her staff on the floor, muttered some incomprehensible words, and pointed her staff towards the open door. This seemed to bring Linnell out of her trance, but too late. Thorns sprouted from the floor and began to grow over the doorway – thick, wiry black thorns. Linnell rushed to the door and tried to push past them but they were immovable and growing thicker by the second.
Thandie held Tib’s catapult tightly, like a charm, thinking of how effective it had been against Sander that night in Essendor. She raised it, pulled back the string and aimed it directly at the interpreter. She spoke in as loud and threatening a voice as she could muster. “Let us go now, or I will use this.”
The old woman stared at Thandie and the corner of her mouth twitched. At first, Thandie thought it was in anger, but then the interpreter threw back her head and laughed.
“Do you really mean to fight me with a child’s toy? It is clear that you do not understand my power.”
Thandie didn’t delay any further: she let the missile fly towards the old woman. It was a powerful shot that flew straight and true but the interpreter was too quick for Thandie. She raised her staff to meet it, deflecting the shot and sending it flying straight back at Thandie. No ordinary staff could do that: it was her magic at work. The shot hit Thandie on the head, just above her right ear, and she staggered backwards, falling to the floor and clutching both hands to her head in pain.
The interpreter laughed again and pointed her staff at the catapult, breaking the string.
Then the old woman focused her attention entirely on Linnell. “You have been quite ungrateful and abused my master’s hospitality. He is busy now, dealing with another betrayal, but you will come with me and answer some questions.”
She grabbed Linnell by the arm and began to pull her towards the door.
Thandie lay sprawled on the floor, helpless, her bag and all her belongings scattered all around. Instinctively, she reached for her most treasured possession, her diary, and Tib’s catapult which she tucked into the pocket of her dress. Then Sander’s pipe, which she slid back into its holder.
She was only dimly aware of what was happening around her. Linnell was shouting, crying out as the interpreter dragged her towards the doors.
Sander’s hunting darts were also scattered on the floor and Thandie reached out to gather them up. There were two within her reach and she picked them up with her fingertips, slowly, softly, not wanting to attract the interpreter’s attention.
She picked up the pipe and, with a shaking hand, positioned the red-tailed dart into the end. Taking careful aim, to avoid causing any harm to Linnell, Thandie covered the sound hole and blew into the pipe, just as she had seen Sander do.
The dart flew swiftly, hitting the interpreter in the side of the neck. She turned, mouth falling open, and raised her right hand to her neck.
Then she crumpled to the floor.
BODY
Thandie
Linnell stood open-mouthed, eyes fixed on the prone body of the interpreter. “What happened?” she asked in a whisper. “Is she – dead?”
Thandie ran towards the old woman. The dart stood out of the side of her white neck like the last feather from a plucked chicken.
Thandie twisted and pulled hard on the dart to remove it, and held it up for Linnell to see. The interpreter’s arm hid her face but her back seemed to be moving up and down, so she was still breathing. Thandie had no idea if she would survive. Sander had said there was enough poison in a single dart to kill a grat outright, but Thandie wasn’t sure what that meant for a fully-grown woman.
“She’s alive,” said Thandie. “We have to get out of here – away from the castle – before she awakes.” Linnell didn’t protest. Thandie held her by the hand as the interpreter had done, and they ran through the double doors.
THE BATTLE
Sander
Sander had thought that he was safe. Had the sorcerer meant to kill him, then he would not have bothered to reverse the spell: he would have killed him on the spot.
But now that the stolen ones had their memories returned and he was weakened, Sander knew that the sorcerer could change his mind. He wouldn’t want to risk Sander getting away now. Although the sorcerer was losing strength, he was still a great mind that had managed to create an entire world up in the clouds. And Sander faced him without a weapon, or even his treasured pipe.
Sander’s body may have just aged twenty years but he was as alert and quick-witted as ever. He could wait for the sorcerer to attack, or he could take the initiative. He turned away from the sorcerer and raced up the steps to the throne. Either side of the throne was a flaming torch, set in a sconce. He took first one, and then the other, not because he needed two, but because he didn’t want to leave the second one unattended.
As he took the torches, the light in the room changed and long shadows swung eerily up the pale ice blue walls. He strode back towards the sorcerer with a torch raised up in each hand, the sulphurous smell catching in his throat.
The sorcerer raised an eyebrow. “What do you think you are going to do – fight me with those? I can extinguish them both in a heartbeat.” But the sorcerer did not extinguish them and Sander suspected that in his weakened state he could not. He looked pale, with dark shadows under his eyes, and was trembling. He didn’t look like a powerful adversary.
Sander was just trying to decide what to do next, when the double doors burst open and Thandie and Linnell burst into the throne room. Relief washed over him. He was right: Thandie had somehow succeeded in her quest. Even the interpreter had not stopped her.
“Thandie! Linnell!” he called happily. He would have waved or run to them but was somewhat restricted by the torches.
But neither girl responded.
They both stared at him with confusion in their eyes.
TWO UNFAMILIAR MEN
Thandie
As they ran into the throne room, Thandie held the pipe near to her mouth, a dart in position. She expected to see Sander and the unicorn battling each other, or worse, the unicorn standing triumphant over the body of Sander. Instead, she saw two unfamiliar men staring at each other, one by the throne, half hidden behind two blazing torches, the other at the end of the walkway, in front of the circular pool.
One of them shouted but she wasn’t sure which, or why.
She had no idea what was going on.
At least the unicorn had gone and she could get Linnell to safety before he returned. Then, she would find Sander and follow.
“Go, Linnell. Find the others and lead them down the steps to a safe place – I will join you as soon as I can.”
To Thandie’s surprise, Linnell kissed her on the cheek. “Stay safe, Thandie.” Then she ran down the stairs and towards the front door.
Thandie turned back to decide what to do next.
She took a proper look at the two men, who seemed on the verge of a fight.
One was tall and thin with a floppy yellow hat. He looked tired and stern. She felt that she seen him in the streets of Essendor, but not for some time. Then she realized something that she had been too slow to grasp as she raced into the throne room.
She knew the other man.
He was old – maybe in his mid thirties. He had fawn skin and sharp features, marked around the eyes with crow’s feet. He was looking at her as if he knew her. At first, she couldn’t place him. Perhaps he was a market stallholder from Essendor or someone she had encountered on Linnell’s farm. But then she took in the stranger’s unusual clothes – the colourful patchwork jacket and the red hat – and recognition quickly dawned on her. Her first instinct was to laugh – a quick barking laugh – although she didn’t find it funny.
It was Sander. Not his father, brother or uncle, but Sander himself. An older Sander.
If he was Sander, then the other man must be the unicorn. The unicorn, but also a man of magic and sorcery.
And Thandie finally understood the deal that Sander had made.
A BLAZE OF ICE
Sander
Thandie stared at him for a long time. He saw the realization dawn and her lip curl as she figured out who he was. Maybe she didn’t mean to look at him with disgust but that is how it appeared.
“Thandie, I can explain!” he shouted. “There is so much I have been unable to tell you.”
The iron torches were heavy in his hands; he could not hold them both for long. Spurred on by Thandie’s appearance, he lifted the torch in his right hand and threw it, hard, in the sorcerer’s direction.
The sorcerer remained completely calm, merely moving his head a few inches to the left to dodge the torch. It flew, a blazing streak, over the sorcerer’s shoulder, past his ear and behind him, into the frozen pool.
Sander expected the torch to fizzle out, possibly the ice to melt, but instead, the icy circle caught alight instantly and flames shot out of the pool to head height. An intense heat took the chill off the air in the room and green smoke, like the smoke which had surrounded the sorcerer during his transformation, began to fill the room.
OLD
Thandie
Thandie stared at the flames, the green mist, the sorcerer and Sander.
She finally understood so much: the peculiar feeling that she had sometimes felt around Sander that he was an old soul in a young body.
“You are … old,” she called out, above the roar and crackle of the flames
“I am,” he replied. “I have been young for a long time – for twenty years – but I am old now. This man takes the shape of a unicorn. I only worked for him in return for the spell he cast.”
So Sander had made a great personal sacrifice in the end: he had given up eternal youth to save her and the others.
“Go! Keep yourself safe!” he called, the way Thandie herself had called out to Linnell, earlier.
He seemed to be in control. She would leave and he would follow later. Thandie turned and raced towards the door.
THE REMAINING TORCH
Sander
The flames in the pool burned right through the thick layer of ice, if that was what it was, leaving a gaping hole in the centre of the room.
Sander held the remaining torch in both hands. He walked down the steps swinging it wildly to one side and then the other, as though keeping a wild animal at bay. If he could force the sorcerer back, then he would fall right into the open circle.
The sorcerer remained calm, barely registering Sander’s efforts with the torch. He muttered something under his breath that could have been a spell and whenever Sander managed to get close to him, he held up an arm, blocking the fire, deflecting the flames.
The sorcerer was stronger than Sander had realized. Sander wasn’t sure that he could win this fight after all. But he had to. If Sander died, and the sorcerer survived, the sorcerer would take Thandie. He would take back Linnell and the others. The sorcerer would win and begin his attempt to take over the kingdom. The chances were that nobody would ever find this hidden world.
AT THE DOORS TO THE THRONE ROOM
Thandie
Thandie reached the doors to the throne room. She could leave now but it felt wrong to abandon Sander to his fight. She turned, just to check that he still had the upper hand. The gr
een smoke partly obscured her view but it seemed that Sander was retreating: the sorcerer had moved away from the pool, and was nudging Sander closer and closer to the pillared wall.
Fight back, she willed him.
But he continued edging backwards until the sorcerer had Sander pinned against a pillar, holding him there with his left upper arm. Then the sorcerer began to wrestle the flaming torch away.
Thandie couldn’t leave now; she had to do something.
BURNING HAIR
Sander
The sorcerer was so close that Sander could see the pores in his nose and the faintly bloodshot whites of his eyes. He had one arm pressed up against Sander’s throat and the other on the flaming torch, trying to prise it from Sander’s right hand.
They both had a grip on the torch and each did their best to gain control.
The sorcerer pushed the flame close to Sander’s face. He could feel its heat on his cheek and smell hair burning. A steady drip of water fell on his shoulder; the heat from the torch must be melting one of the ice sculptures above.
The sorcerer narrowed his eyes. “You are a mere piper, no match for me. But if you admit defeat and turn the girl over to me, I will let you escape with your life.”
“Never,” said Sander. He found strength from somewhere and pushed the torch towards the sorcerer. He refused to concede this battle; there was too much to lose.
THE LAST DART
Thandie
There was one dart left. With trembling hands, Thandie placed it in the end of the pipe and took aim. She visualized the path that the dart would take, imagined it shooting straight to the sorcerer. If she had managed to hit the interpreter then surely she could do the same again. It would hit the sorcerer in the side of the neck and he would collapse, giving them both a chance to get out of this castle and away to safety.
The Darkest Unicorn Page 19