Thandie blew.
The dart flew.
It missed.
LOST FEATHER
Sander
A dart whistled past Sander’s right ear, hit the hard wall behind him and clattered to the floor. It was enough to momentarily distract the sorcerer from their fight and he looked away.
Sander saw the dart lying on the smooth floor, like a bird’s lost feather. If he could just reach down and grab it, he could jab its sharp end into the sorcerer. The poison would immediately take effect and he would be free to get away.
He leaned down, his fingers almost within touching distance of the dart.
But, just as he got closer, the dart slid just a few hand’s lengths away from him across the floor. He looked up sharply to see why.
The ice in the room was beginning to crack and the whole floor was shifting.
THE FLOOR
Thandie
She had not expected the dart to miss. She looked around desperately for another way to save Sander. She considered running back to the room where the interpreter lay, and gathering the remaining darts.
But then she noticed the floor in the throne room.
The flames in the central pool had burned out, and all the ice had melted. There was no longer anything there, just a gaping hole to the outside world. Even from where she stood, she could clearly see the blue sky.
Radiating from that circular hole were jagged cracks, which were growing longer and wider by the second.
“You have to get out of there!” yelled Thandie. “The floor is breaking!”
FISSURE
Sander
Sander heard Thandie call out. Two of the fissures in the floor widened and a giant slab of floor cracked away, sloping in to the middle of the room. He grabbed the pillar to stop himself from falling and managed to secure himself, but the sorcerer slid away, dropping the flaming torch and holding on to Sander’s legs, just above his knees.
“Help me, Sander,” called the sorcerer, looking up at him with pleading eyes. Sander could reach out and save them both or he could kick the sorcerer away, and watch him slide down into the swirling clouds.
UPPER HAND
Thandie
Sander had the upper hand in this fight once more. He had a firm grasp on the pillar and the sorcerer was losing his grip on Sander’s legs. He fell a few inches and clasped Sander’s calves.
“He’s slipping! Let him go, Sander, save yourself!” she shouted. “Use the pillar to climb out!”
PUTTING IT RIGHT
Sander
Maybe Thandie was right. If Sander kicked out, he would be able to send the sorcerer sliding towards the centre. But maybe the sorcerer was still capable of using magic, and Sander could not take the risk of the sorcerer surviving.
However, there was one thing that the sorcerer would not be expecting: something that would definitely work.
Sander had done some dreadful things. Some would say that he had led a bad life. He had helped to take so much from so many. Now was his chance to do something honourable – he could rid the world of the Greatest Unicorn.
Sander looked at Thandie and smiled.
“You’ve done it,” he shouted. “You don’t need me any more. Keep playing the pipe!”
And he let go of the pillar.
LETTING GO
Thandie
Sander let go. It was a deliberate act, Thandie was sure. She gasped and ran a few metres back into the throne room, despite the instability of the floor. Both men slid rapidly towards the centre of the room, towards the gaping hole leading to nothing. The sorcerer’s mouth widened in shock and he tried to turn on to his front, hands and feet scrabbling on the slippery slope, searching for a handhold but finding nothing.
Right behind him, Sander closed his eyes and stretched his arms out. He was so controlled and graceful that Thandie half-expected him to turn into a bird, but he did not. Both men slid down the slope, fell through the hole in the floor, into the clouds, and were gone.
TIME TO GET OUT
Thandie
Thandie ran to what had been the pool, and looked over the edge. All she could see were clouds and nothing beneath that, except, presumably, the mountains that they had climbed to get here. She half-expected Sander to peek back out from underneath, with his mischievous grin, to tell her that he was joking. But he did not.
They had gone. They had both gone.
Thandie shivered. The flames had gone and cold air blasted out of the hole in the floor.
She took a few steps away from the edge. The floor she was standing on began to creak. She had seen how rapidly part of the room broke away. She wasn’t safe here.
She had to get out.
Somehow she managed to move her feet and stumble away from the gaping hole. She pushed her way out of the throne room doors, ran down the wide staircase, out of the front door with its beautiful coloured glass and out into the deserted cloudy landscape.
She ran as if she were being chased, although she wasn’t sure who would be chasing her any more. The interpreter might awaken and come after her. She still felt that the unicorn might come after her, even though she had just seen the sorcerer disappear; she didn’t know what to believe. All she knew was that she had to put as much distance between herself and the castle as possible.
She had told Linnell to head to the steps and that’s where she must go, but for a moment, Thandie didn’t know where the steps were. It seemed like a long time since the flying wolves had brought her to this land and she couldn’t think which way to turn.
But then she saw a grat skull and shards of bone on the ground: the remnants of Conan and Kemi’s meal. That gave her a sense of positioning and she remembered that the steps were close by. She ran, half blind in the thick cloud, in their direction. She ran, and she didn’t look back.
RUNNING
Thandie
Thandie found the steps easily, as if it was meant to be. She hurried down them, her feet going so quickly that she struggled to keep up. Finch always said that he preferred walking uphill to down, that going downhill hurt his knees, but after climbing up mountains, Thandie was relieved to be travelling downhill at last.
As she ran down, thoughts whirled around her mind.
Sander was gone. She had never been quite sure whether she could trust him but in the end, he had shown his loyalty. He had saved her and given up his own life. Was he really gone? Perhaps he had known something that she hadn’t. Perhaps Conan had flown out and caught him in mid air.
She was sure that he had meant to fall but she was unsure why. Couldn’t he have kicked the sorcerer away and saved himself? Perhaps it was Sander’s way of giving up – giving in. He could have done so much more with his life. He could have had a family of his own, or taught children to play music, or continued on his adventures or … anything.
His voice came back to her: “If I find myself in danger of growing old then I shall throw myself off a high mountaintop.”
Did he really mean that? Did he choose to die rather than face the aging process? It was such a sad fear. He did not allow himself the wisdom that came with age, the prospect of children or grandchildren: all the wonderful things about growing older.
She began to cry, all the pent up emotion of her experience rolling down her cheeks as fat tears. She cried for Sander, and for her mother and even for the sorcerer who was no longer part of this world.
But when her vision became too blurry, Thandie had to stop and wipe her eyes. She must concentrate on the steps. She didn’t want to lose her footing. Wouldn’t that be a shame – to travel all these miles and have all these adventures, only to trip and fall down some stone steps at the end. What would have been the point of it all?
She tried to think of other things, like what would be at the bottom of these steps. She remembered the options that Sander had given her. In reverse order, it had been flying wolves, a golden tree and some sort of basket across from the mountain.
But she didn’t kno
w, and what was the point of trying to guess what lay ahead? She just had to keep going.
BALANCE
Thandie
Just as it felt the steps would go on forever, Thandie heard the murmur of voices and knew she must have finally caught up with the stolen ones. Her feet emerged from the white mist before she did and she thought she heard Linnell’s voice shout, “Thandie!”
It was Linnell, looked visibly relieved. She greeted Thandie with a warm hug.
“You came,” she said. She looked over Thandie’s shoulder, as if expecting to see somebody else emerge from the mist. “Did you find your friend?”
Thandie shook her head briefly, breathing hard from her long climb down. She needed to catch her breath and didn’t want to talk about Sander to anyone yet. Linnell seemed to understand, and rested her hand briefly on Thandie’s arm.
Thandie took in her surroundings. They were all there, the stolen ones, gathered together on a large, flat rocky ledge, only just big enough to hold them all. They sat huddled in subdued groups, their faces pale and drawn. Their eyes all swivelled hopefully towards Thandie, unsure of exactly who she was but certain she could lead them to safety.
“I’m glad you came – I didn’t think I could get them home without you,” said Linnell
Thandie shook her head. “You could have done it. You are stronger than you think.”
Linnell didn’t look convinced. It was strange; Linnell must be seventeen now – three years older than Thandie, but she seemed so much younger.
“It’s not that easy,” said Linnell. She showed Thandie the rudimentary pulley system, which was fixed to a wooden post. A rope stretched away from it out into the mist. Linnell pulled at it but it was stuck fast.
“There is a basket to ride in, but Sander, the boy who led me here, brought it back to the other side. He must have secured it in some way and now I don’t know how to get us back across.”
Thandie flinched at the sound of Sander’s name. She examined and pulled on the rope as Linnell had done. It did seem to be fixed in place and she didn’t want to yank it too hard for fear of breaking the rope. She sighed. She felt as though all these people had faith in her and she should somehow be the one to come up with an idea.
A high, accented voice rang out from the group. “There is a way across.”
Thandie turned to see who had spoken. It was a boy, one of the youngest of the group, only ten or eleven. He was small and wiry and wore unusual clothes: blue stretchy tights, a matching top and flexible slippers. Thandie ran through the names in her mind. She remembered this boy. It was Aldo Strood, the Elithian circus performer. He had been juggling with the other, older boy, who had disappeared.
“What do you suggest we do?” asked Thandie.
“Walk across,” he said simply.
Thandie looked at him. “Is this something you … do?”
“It is. I am a tightrope walker.”
“And are you good at it?”
“Of course. I told her,” he said, indicating Linnell, “but she didn’t think it was a good idea.”
Linnell bit her lower lip uncertainly. “I don’t want to be responsible for any accidents… The boy’s family … all our families … they’ve lost so much already.”
Thandie gazed out into the clouds. It was impossible to tell how far the rope stretched. “Linnell, do you remember how far it was – how long the crossing took in the basket?”
“I don’t know. It felt like forever but maybe a minute?”
Thandie looked back at Aldo.
He smiled. “I am sure I can do it. I have been up on the high wire since I could walk.”
The resolve on his face was encouraging. Thandie had faith that he could do this. People didn’t normally volunteer for anything that was beyond them. Also, she could think of no other plan. “Can we attach you to any sort of harness or rope, to keep you safe?” she asked.
Aldo shrugged. “I see nothing we could use. Besides, I need no harness. It is a short walk, no?”
He took off his slippers and stockings. “I go barefoot. This gives me more grip, see?” He wiggled his toes.
Linnell chewed on her lip a little more, shaking her head. They couldn’t do this if they weren’t all in agreement.
“Linnell, do you think we should do this?”
“It is the only way.” She looked pale and tired.
Aldo nodded and stood up very straight, in performance mode, perhaps. “I go now. I ask you all to please be very quiet.”
He hardly needed to make that request. The children were a subdued group in the first place, but now they held their collective breath as Aldo climbed on to the wooden post and sat on top of it, preparing to walk across. Still sitting, he put one foot on the rope in front of him, then the other ahead of the first. He stood straight with his arms stretched out, one by his head and the other straight out at a right angle as if he were dancing. He was still above the platform at this stage and he bounced gently to test the rope. Seemingly satisfied, he took a couple of steps forward. There was nothing now between him and a sheer drop, but Aldo looked directly ahead, calm and focused.
Linnell had her eyes squeezed tightly shut, as did many of the others in their group, but Thandie fixed her gaze on Aldo’s skilful feet, willing them to carry him safely across to the other mountain.
The rope swayed significantly but this didn’t seem to affect Aldo’s balance. He progressed forwards, slowly and steadily, until he was an indistinct shape, lost in the clouds.
“I see the other side!” he called out.
No one replied. They remained silent as instructed. But in Thandie’s mind, she willed him across. Don’t call out, don’t look down, just keep going.
Then the rope stopped swaying. Thandie’s heart lurched. Had he stopped? Had he fallen?
Thandie put her hands to her mouth.
And then the high voice came, ringing out from the other mountain. “I am here! All in one piece! Here comes the basket!”
The rope began to shift in a new direction, the pulley system squeaking into action as Aldo pulled from the other side.
ACROSS THE RAVINE
Thandie
At the sound of Aldo’s voice, a great cheer went up. A couple of girls burst into tears. Linnell jumped up and hugged Thandie.
Thandie was relieved he was safe but she didn’t want to celebrate too early; the pulley system looked decidedly rickety and she wouldn’t be able to relax until they had all travelled safely across.
“Do you mind if I go first?” whispered Linnell. “It brings back such awful memories and I can’t face being left alone on the mountainside again.”
“Of course,” said Thandie. “I don’t mind going last.”
She pulled Linnell safely across herself, and then helped organize the others. There was no jostling, no complaining or suggesting who should go ahead of whom. They were all quiet again. Disorientated, probably, or lost in their own thoughts.
One by one, they travelled across in the basket and the rope held for them all.
When it was Thandie’s turn, she lay back in the basket, looking at the cobalt sky. She remembered flying to the castle, the feeling of being on Kemi’s back. This journey had been tiring, distressing, scary, but it had also been the adventure of her life.
On the other side, Thandie handed Aldo his slippers. “Thank you,” she said. “We are all grateful to you.”
He smiled and shrugged. “No problem, it is what I do. And I knew that my brother was behind me. He will always be there to protect me.”
Thandie wondered what his story was and how he had lost his beloved brother, but now was not the time to ask. Now it was time to go home.
THE LONG WALK HOME
Thandie
There were no more ravines to cross, no more unicorns to battle. Now, all they had to do was get down this mountain. Luckily, the summer days were long and they had hours of sunlight left. None of them wanted to spend another night in the mountains.
&nbs
p; When they had trudged downhill for two hours or more, they took a break. None of them had any food, and her few crusts of bread didn’t stretch far; but they could take the weight off their tired feet for a few moments and there was a stream nearby where they could quench their thirst.
Thandie and Linnell sat by each other. They were virtual strangers but they had a connection now: they would always have a connection. And there was something about Linnell – the colour of her hair and eyes, the outer vulnerability with steely core – that made Thandie think of Hetty. “You remind me of someone,” she said.
Linnell was immediately interested. She seemed to be the type of person who would be content to talk about herself. “Who?”
“A girl from home. We share a room in our foster mother’s house.”
Linnell tilted her head to one side. “Your foster sister?”
“Yes.”
“You are lucky to have a sister. I’m all alone.”
Thandie nodded, taking this in.
They sat in silence for a couple of moments and then Thandie rummaged in her bag to see if there were any supplies left from Yannick’s house. She found a couple of greengages, bruised in places but acceptable. She handed one to Linnell, who bit into it.
“How did you know my song?” asked Linnell. “Did he teach you?”
Thandie narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t sure who Linnell meant by “he”.
“Sander. The piper,” said Linnell. “He was your friend up there in the castle, wasn’t he?”
Thandie nodded.
Linnell knitted her brows together. “So was he good then, in the end? He helped us?”
“I think so. But he didn’t teach me the song.”
“Then…?”
“I met your father. He taught us both.”
Linnell’s blue eyes filled with tears. “He is alive!”
“Yes. He is well. These greengages are from your tree. He misses you.”
Linnell held out the half-eaten fruit, looking at it as though she might recognize it. “He is not angry?”
Angry! How could Linnell believe that her dear, sweet father would be angry? “No. He grieves for you.”
The Darkest Unicorn Page 20