The Secret Of The Unicorn Queen - Moonspell

by Gwen Hansen

  The magic had begun.

  2

  The Unicorn's Call

  Sheila stood up, feeling a little shaky as she realized that the visions she had seen were real. Maybe the lessons with Micula were working. Of course, she reminded herself, there was no guarantee she would ever have visions like that again. She wondered if the visions were tied into the spell of protection or part of another magic altogether.

  "Was Illyria all right?" Darian asked, bringing her back to more immediate problems.

  "I think so. She looked tired."

  "That's not surprising." Darian leaned against the tower wall, absently toying with his bandage.

  Sheila gestured toward his arm. "Does that hurt?"

  He shrugged. "It wasn't deep. Just messy. Cam was show­ing me how to block this twisting cut he uses, and I didn't move fast enough. I guess it's going to take some practice."

  Sheila knew that Darian dreamed of one day joining Laric's elite band of warriors, but Laric took no one before the age of twenty-one, and then only if he passed a series of rigorous tests.

  "Practice," Sheila echoed with a groan. "I'm supposed to be down in the courtyard right now working out with Myno and the others." She looked at Darian suspiciously. "How come you're not there?"

  He held up his injured arm. "Pelu told me to take it easy for a few days."

  "Oh, you poor thing," Sheila teased. "I bet you're secretly thrilled to have another scar to show off."

  Darian raised one dark eyebrow. "Want me to come watch you practice?"

  "No, thanks," she answered quickly, and took off before he could make good on his offer.

  The morning sun was completely gone when Sheila entered the courtyard. The sky had become overcast, a solid mass of gray that made even the white palace walls look unusually bleak. In the middle of the courtyard the unicorn riders had gathered in a wide circle. Pelu, the delicately built healer, stood in its center, breathing hard and waiting. Sheila felt a familiar readiness as she took her place on the edge of the circle and began to stretch.

  Myno, Illyria's lieutenant, barked out the name "Nanine," and a stately black woman with gold cords braided though her long black hair stepped into the center. She and Pelu exchanged quick bows of respect, and then Nanine's leg shot out, hooking itself around Pelu's ankle and bringing the healer down in a sweep. Although Nanine was obviously stronger, Pelu rolled out of the fall unhurt and was instantly on her feet again. Blocking a blow to the neck, she caught Nanine’s arm, twisted it, and brought the larger woman down.

  "Well done," said Myno, signaling the end of their match. She glanced around the circle. "Sheila, you're next," she an­nounced.

  Sheila nodded and took Pelu's place. Although she was no longer afraid of this exercise, she always felt a rise of ten­sion when she stepped into the ring. No one knew what would happen in the circle. And even though Sheila had become fairly competent at defending herself, she still felt a little selfconscious with all of the other riders watching her.

  "Zanara-Ki," Myno called, and the group's most skilled martial artist approached. The two combatants bowed to each other, Sheila bowing a little deeper to acknowledge that Zanara-Ki was one of her teachers. Then, before Sheila had a chance to plan her first move, Zanara-Ki whipped off a series of lightning-fast kicks precisely aimed at Sheila's stomach, ribs, and head. Instantly Sheila's tension dissolved as she became caught up in her own defense. She twisted out of the way of the first two kicks and caught the third one on her arm. It hurt, but not badly, and she forced herself to move in on her opponent. Zanara-Ki let Sheila move in and then launched herself over the novice's head with a flip any gymnast would envy. Sheila whirled and, as Zanara-Ki landed, aimed a back-fist at her opponent's chin. The blow was blocked, but Sheila followed it up with an uppercut to the ribs, and this time she connected.

  "Score!" Myno declared, and the fight was over.

  Sheila and Zanara-Ki bowed to each other, Sheila felt a rush of pride as her instructor smiled, congratulating her on the successful attack.

  "Kara!" Myno called as a light rain began to fall.

  A graceful young woman, whose long brown hair hung in a single braid, stepped into the center of the circle. She held two spears in her hand and casually tossed one to Sheila.

  Sheila caught it and bowed, glad to see her old friend again. Kara, an archer, had joined Illyria's band long ago, searching for her missing sister, Lianne. Eventually, as Illyria had suspected they would, the riders had found Lianne a pris­oner of the tyrant Dynasian. What no one had expected was that Kara would leave the riders and settle quietly in the city of Campora to make a home for her younger sister. But even though she was officially "retired," Kara often joined the other riders for practice.

  When they had ridden together, Kara had treated Sheila like another younger sister, and the two had grown close. But Sheila knew none of that would matter inside the ring. Kara was circling her slowly now, a predator waiting for its prey to make the first move. Don't let her scare you, Sheila told herself. Holding her own spear lightly at her side, Sheila followed Kara's moves and instinctively darted to the side as the archer's spear flashed toward her. I didn't even see that coming, Sheila thought nervously. Kara's spear ripped toward her again, grazing her tunic.

  “Sheila, do something!" Myno ordered sharply. "Either attack or cover yourself. Don't just stand there!"

  Sheila felt her face redden and was glad Darian wasn't watching. Kara was teasing her now, darting the tip of the spear inside her guard, pricking her lightly to let her know how easily she could penetrate her defense. Rattled, Sheila thrust her own spear straight ahead, aiming for Kara's ribs, only to have the spear wrenched cleanly from her hand In the next second Kara's spear tip was resting gently in the hollow of Sheila's throat.

  "Score," Myno said, stating the obvious.

  Sheila bowed to Kara, her eyes downcast, and started to leave the circle.

  "I didn't say you could leave," Myno said shortly, stop­ping Sheila in her tracks. "You've got another fight . . . Dian!"

  For the first time Sheila really noticed the rain. It was only a drizzle, but carried on a cool wind, it felt good against her sweaty skin. Without letting herself think about the fact that Dian, only a year older, was a fierce, often intimidating fighter, Sheila bowed to her opponent.

  Myno strode into the circle, holding two long wooden poles. With a nod she handed one to each girl. Sheila's hand closed on the smooth wood; it was oddly comforting.

  Dian attacked first, raising her staff and bringing it down hard. Sheila whirled away seconds before it could connect with her shoulder blade. Dian looked furious at Sheila's es­cape and Sheila realized that in a strange way, this girl was more dangerous than either Kara or Zanara-Ki. Though the two older riders were far more skilled as fighters, they never let their emotions enter a fight. No matter how fierce the battle, they remained calm and in control. Dian, however, didn’t like to lose a practice match, especially to Sheila, whom she had always considered a rival.

  Dian raised her staff, swinging wildly at Sheila, and Sheila used her own staff to meet the blow. The force of Dian's strike jolted her so hard she felt it in her arm sockets. Dian struck again, and this time Sheila dropped her own staff and grabbed Dian's. The two girls struggled for a moment, locked in place.

  "That's enough," Myno called. "Much better, Sheila."

  Sheila was breathing hard now, hoping she wouldn't have to fight again. Her arms and legs were shaking with exhaus­tion. Nervously she watched Myno scan the circle and then abruptly call a halt to practice as the light rain turned into a sudden downpour.

  For a minute Sheila stood still as the other riders scattered. After three fights the cold rain pelting down on her was as welcome as a cold shower-something she hadn't had since leaving her own world. She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder and turned to see Kara smiling at her. "Come with me!" the archer shouted over the downpour. “I want to see the uni­corns.” She nodded toward the stables and br
oke into a swift, easy run. Sheila followed, ignoring the ache in her side from the fights. It was a good kind of soreness, she decided, and she would take the sparring ring over magic lessons any day.

  Sheila slowed to a walk as she neared the stable; after all, she couldn't get any wetter than she already was. Rain streamed down her long auburn hair and made a second soaking ­wet skin of her tunic. She let herself into the stable, taking in the sweet smell of hay and the warmth of the animals.

  Inside, Kara was already leaning against a wooden pillar, squeezing water from her braid. "Whew! That's some rain," she said. "And we've had enough of it lately. Our garden is drowning."

  "You have a garden?" Sheila asked in amazement. Some­how she couldn't picture the lithe archer engaged in any ac­tivity as tame as gardening.

  Kara nodded matter-of-factly. "Lianne and I planted it this spring. For a while, before the rains came, it fed us."

  A loud clap of thunder seemed to break directly over the stable building, and a chorus of shrill whinnies rose out of the stalls. Kara stood up at once, peering down the long aisle of horse stalls to an open enclosure at the end of the building. "Come on," she said. "Let's go see the beasts."

  Together they walked down the aisle of stalls, past the great war horses that Laric and his warriors rode. As all the riders knew, unicorns were creatures of the wild. None of them were partial to the indoors, and they had panicked when the riders tried to lead them into the stalls during the first of the heavy storms. It was Prince Laric who had finally arrived at a solution to the problem—this huge open room. Sheila still had a hard time thinking of it as a room. It was easily as large as three football fields laid side by side. Unicorns, Laric said, could not be crowded.

  While they tolerated this stable, the unicorns obviously didn't like it. The animals were milling about restlessly now, as if eager to break free of the walls. Sheila thought it a won­der they weren't bucking. She had rarely seen them all so nervous at once.

  "There you are, my friend!" Kara called as a dark brown unicorn with a white star broke away from the others and trotted toward her. "I've missed you," the archer murmured, planting a kiss on the velvety nose.

  Amused, Sheila watched the happy reunion until she felt a gentle nudge against her side. Morning Star, her own be­loved unicorn, touched her gently with her black horn. "I've missed you, too,” Sheila assured her, running a hand through the mare's silky white coat. "Who brought you in out of the storm?" It must have been one of the riders; for, with the exception of Micula and Lanric, the unicorns would let no one else near them.

  "I did," came a familiar voice.

  Sheila and Kara both looked up to see Darian in the mid­dle of the herd, trying to soothe an excited Wildwing. Even under the best of circumstances, Wildwing was difficult to handle. A powerful black stallion, he was easily the wildest of all the unicorns who allowed themselves to be ridden. Though he had formed a strong bond with Darian, he often acted as if he were still part of the wild herd that followed the riders. "Stop that!" Darian snapped, pushing hard against the uni­corn's side.

  "He was going after Quiet Storm," Kara said in amazement.

  "I don't believe this," said Sheila fearfully as the great silver-coated unicorn whirled and lowered its horn to meet Wildwing's attack. "They never fight with each other."

  "And they won't now," Darian said between his teeth as he managed to turn Wildwing away from the challenge. He stood talking quietly to the animal for a few moments. "It's this storm," he told Sheila. "It's got them all on edge. What a time to have to take them inside."

  "I don’t see why you did. They've weathered storms be­fore," Kara pointed out. “They'd be fine outside."

  "Illyria doesn't think so," Darian countered. "She's the one who told me to take them in.

  The archer shrugged. "Where is Illyria anyway?" she asked. "I thought she would be at practice today, but Nanine, Pelu, Dian—they all tell me it's been days since they've seen her. Is she all right?"

  Neither Sheila nor Darian answered.

  "Maybe she's with Laric,'' Kara suggested hopefully. “Per­haps the two of them just wanted time alone.” Illyria and Laric had been in love for years. But now Laric a kingdom to run, and while Illyria had come to accept Campora as a sort of home base, she was often away from the city with her riders. To Sheila it seemed the two barely saw each other.

  "No," Darian disagreed. "Laric doesn't know any more about this than the rest of us. At least, he didn't last night."

  The inside of the stable was suddenly lit up as lightning flashed through the sky. Like mirror images, Wildwing and Quiet Storm faced each other and reared up, their fore­legs striking out. Darian raced to Wildwing's side, trying to position himself between the two stallions without being struck.

  "I think he's going to need reinforcements," Kara said with a worried glance. "I'll get the others."

  The rain let up almost as soon as Kara left the stable. By the time she returned with Nanine and Pelu, Wildwing was calmly gulping oats from a bucket, Quiet Storm was looking regally indifferent, and Darian was showering Sheila with a handful of hay.

  Illyria did not appear all that afternoon. Nor did she come out for the evening meal. Laric showed up halfway through dinner only to exchange a few words with Cam before leaving again. In the great banquet hall it was clear that something was wrong. A howling wind tore at the palace walls, and the riders and Laric's men barely spoke. Everyone seemed to be waiting for whatever it was that was sure to come. Without the usual high-spirited banter, the meal was over quickly. One by one the riders drifted away from the table until only Sheila and Darian were left.

  "Did you notice who else didn't show up tonight?" Darian asked softly.

  Sheila nodded. "Micula."

  * * *

  It was nearly midnight when Pelu found Sheila in the palace garden. The wind was still fierce, but with everyone in the palace seeming so tense, Sheila had not wanted to remain inside. It was a dark night with no moon.

  "I've been looking for you," the healer said. "Illyria has summoned us to the great hall. You must come now. It's urgent."

  Sheila followed without question, a sense of excitement rising within her. She didn't know what was wrong, but if Illyria had summoned them, that meant they were going to do something about it.

  Inside the palace the great hall blazed with torchlight. The other riders were already gathered, talking quietly among themselves. Illyria stood on an onyx dais, flanked by Prince Laric on one side and Micula on the other. But it was to the two women that all eyes were drawn; a study in dark and light, their very presence commanded attention. What complete op­posites they are, Sheila thought. Illyria's silver-blond hair was bound in a single thick braid that fell to her waist. Tall and strong, she looked every inch the warrior queen. Micula stood beside her, slight of frame with a short cap of shining black hair and a fierceness in her fine-boned face that was almost frightening. There was one thing they had in common, though. In her own way, each woman was strikingly beautiful. And each, Sheila realized, projected an unshakeable inner strength.

  As if by signal, the riders suddenly fell quiet, waiting for the Unicorn Queen to speak.

  "The next full moon will bring great changes to the land," Illyria began simply. "You are all aware of the frequent storms that have lashed our land these last few months. And I'm sure you've noticed that they have become more frequent and se­vere with each passing day. At the same time the unicorns grow more and more difficult. At first I thought the violence of the storms had simply unnerved them, and there is some truth in that. But there is more. The storms will be getting worse, and so will the unicorns. For the next full moon is a moon of great power, and it is . .'' Here Illyria hesitated, seeming at a loss for words. "It is pulling things," she said at last. "It is pulling the storms from the sea. And it is pulling the unicorns toward Ryudain."

  "I've never heard of Ryudain," Myno said gruffly.

  "Nor I,'' said Zanara-Ki.

 
; Looking about the room, Sheila was pretty sure that no one except Illyria, Micula, and Laric knew what Ryudain was.

  Micula stepped forward and said, "Ryudain lies north of here, a fortnight's journey along the coast and then inland along the Caolin River. It is the source place for the uni­corns—the place where they originally came into this world." The sorceress stepped back, indicating that she had explained everything necessary.

  "Oh, that's helpful," Darian muttered.

  Illyria glared at her brother for a second, then obviously decided that more explanation was indeed called for. "There is a great deal about this that I myself don't understand," she confessed. "But I do know that every seven years the unicorns must return to Ryudain to have their magic renewed. What we are talking about is a wild magic whose powers exceed that of any man or woman. This is a magic that belongs to the moon. The unicorns and the storms are part of it. I believe—I hope—that once the unicorns have returned to Ryudain, the storms will ease. It is a matter of restoring a natural balance, of returning to the moon what is rightfully hers."

  Sheila knew that in this world the moon was considered a source of power and magic. It was thought of as female, as the sun was considered male. What she didn't understand was how the moon, the unicorns, and Ryudain all tied together.

  "None of us knows exactly what will happen in Ryudain," the Unicorn Queen went on in a calm, quiet voice. "But it is clearly calling to the unicorns, and it is our duty to see they get there safely." She stopped for a moment, her blue eyes searching the faces of her riders. "I can tell you that this will not be an easy journey. Until we reach Ryndain, we'll be riding by night."

  Sheila felt a ripple of uneasiness spread through the room. When the riders rode at night, it usually meant they were being pursued.

  Prince Laric stepped forward, his dark eyes grave. "You must understand," he said, "that here in Campora we've had a relatively easy time of the storms. They have been much worse in other parts in the realm, particularly the north, the area through which you'll be riding. There, entire villages have been destroyed by floods, and the seas are still rising. The northerners are superstitious people. They may blame the unicorns for their troubles."