Wren pulled her hands to her chest as if to deny them from me. I couldn't tell whether she was clutching her bosom or her virginity, but I suddenly wanted to get my hands on both. Bending down, I retrieved the sword and walked briskly away in the opposite direction.
“Where are you going?” The Mage demanded.
“To borrow something we’ll need.” I heard footsteps behind me as they followed.
I stepped into the worn grass off the path. The tavern wall was shorter on that side, and windowless on the ground floor. I strolled to the back door.
“Do you think it's wise…” The Mage began.
“No,” I cut him off.
What’s the fun in doing something wise?
“Calen!” A group of feminine voices called from above us.
“What is it, my dears?” I said, knowing immediately who it was.
The women on the balcony clucked like chickens in a hen house while I prowled outside.
“Are those, whores?” Wren asked in a whisper. “Do you know them?”
“Intimately. And they're certainly not Queens, Princess. Though, some of them are every bit as much a royal pain as you.”
“You vagabond!” The Princess hissed.
“I tried to warn you,” I sighed.
“Calen,” a soft voice called, “Calen, where are you going?” The lips that spoke those words were familiar to draw with my eyes closed. I didn’t bother to look up, knowing if I did I would see a young girl—still too young to be so burdened—with hair the color of summer shadows and green eyes a fraction too big for her face. I walked on in silence.
“You’re just going to ignore her?” The Mage prodded. He had no idea what he was talking about.
I paused. “It isn’t wise to give the ladies of this establishment too much attention.”
The voices above us laughed derisively, waving fans in front of their rouged lips, painted bosoms bouncing—all save one. I silenced the Mage with a look and nodded to the quiet one.
“Several have loved that one—only to cast her aside. I am not one of them.”
My tone betrayed me, but my words were as hard as ever. I moved towards the hidden door concealed in the shadow of the tower. I reached for the metal bar, only to have it ripped from my hand.
Lin stood in the doorway with a stare of disbelief. “I can't believe you’d come back here after what you just pulled,” he said flatly.
“Me either, but I need a durable tent, and I know you have one.” Lin was the prepared type, just in case he ever needed to escape from this lie.
Lin started to protest, but finally nodded his head in acceptance.
“It's in the shed,” Lin said, eyes briefly flickering to a decaying shack with a caved-in roof.
“My thanks,” I said, stepping back to give a little bow. I'd need to be out of striking range for my next request. “Any chance of a drink for the road?”
The dark swirls in Lin’s eyes seemed to dance. “What’s one more drink added to the tally you already owe me? Check in the rucksack in the shed.”
That was a surprise. Lin must have landed a big contract recently to be so generous.
I nodded my thanks, careful never to take my eyes from his hands. Walking towards toward the small structure, I paused to examine the rotting leather straps that barely held the door shut. Just the kind of place to hide valuables. Inside was a mess of equipment, empty bottles, and worn blankets. The tent was there, in the very middle, standing next to a mossy looking pack. Upon closer inspection it was clean and well oiled, making it obvious that it had been kept in good repair. I picked it up.
Lin had known something was coming. I reached for the pack. Inside were two tall flasks filled with Hellfire, Lin's favorite Whiskey. The whole shack reeked of it. The scent was comforting, in a burning, made-you-gag sort of way.
With a grin, I tossed it over my shoulder and turned to leave—then else caught my eye.
“You get lost in there?” Lin asked, his voice deceptively calm.
There was something hidden, sandwiched between two thin pieces of wood just behind where the tent had been. I could see a stretch of cracked dark leather.
With one hand I pulled away the false bit of wood covering something.
Wren had appeared behind me. “What’s that?” The nosy girl asked me.
I unwrapped the package hastily and black bits of hiding flaked off. “A long sword,” I mumbled. The blade was made of sleek silver, the color of starlight, and the handle was pale gold. This wasn’t the hardened blade of a professional killer. It was an heirloom, cherished by someone whom Lin had probably killed. I almost felt sorry for taking it, before I saw that leather case held more treasures.
“And a set of throwing knives,” I added. Maybe Lin had killed a rival assassin who was taking his business. The blades were no thicker than my thumbnail, and half as long as my forearm. They had handles of smooth jade and pinpricked little tips. I ran my finger across one and whistled quietly as a bloodless line appeared.”
Wren’s hand shot out, but I smacked it away. “It’s dipped in a poison that’d kill the likes of you! Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to play with knives?” I spat.
Wren shrank back, her wide eyes staring at me.
“Won’t it kill you?” she asked.
I laughed, showing her my finger. The cut had already healed. If she was supposed to be the savior of Spellshallow, the Realm of Mages was doomed.
“There are very few poisons that can kill a unicorn,” I said. “I smelled this one as soon as I entered and knew it was no threat.” Let her think I had some mysterious power.
The Mage was watching carefully and didn’t question me for once. I assumed he was used to this kind of behavior from her. Perhaps I wouldn’t have to kill him after all.
“I'll get my horse,” I said, “you both wait here.”
The Princess grinned. “You ride a horse? Isn’t that—”
Clawing at my scalp in frustration, I considered ignoring her, but I knew she wouldn't drop it.
“What should I ride? A dragon? A magical white cloud made of love perhaps? Yes, it’s not as fun as riding whores, but since I’m stuck in this form without my horn, I might as well ride a horse.”
I hid the longsword in the tent along with the knives and walked out toward the tavern stable. An inpatient serving girl called after Lin and he reluctantly turned away to deal with some customer too drunk to pay. Lin would squeeze the money out of the poor fool.
The smell of old hay and manure filled my lungs. The stable hand was passed out drunk somewhere, giving me the space I needed to help myself. Luka was in the last stall. The Arabian horse was blacker than a moonless midnight with a blazing white lightning bolt in the middle of his head. I liked my horses fast, and Luka was always ready to run. That made two of us. Throwing on his blanket and saddle, I transferred the blades and tied the tent on.
A small girl giggled from her hiding place in the rafters. I hadn’t prepared myself for this. Steeling my resolve, I looked up at those hopeful eyes, knowing I would let this innocent child down yet again.
At least I was well-practiced in it.
“Your Mama know you are down here, you little hellion?” I asked the child.
She was my one weakness, assuming I had only one.
Two small hands wrapped around a center support beam as she slid down. She stayed hidden, the wood concealing the familiar silver mane of hair, and the striking blue eyes behind it.
If only I could forget.
“You’re going?” she asked, bending her neck for a moment, eyes squinting against the light. Or maybe the four-year-old couldn’t bear to look at me.
“You know she can’t find you when you hide like that.” I reminded her.
“I was hoping Mama’d ask you to help find me,” she whispered. “Are you leaving again?”
I smiled at her. “Come out here and give me a hug.”
The child had labored under the delusion I was a hero sin
ce she knew the meaning of the word. Everyone loses faith in their heroes eventually.
Sometimes, when I looked at her, I could almost believe in myself again. She was the only great thing I had ever done, but I could never let her know that.
“I am, but I hope to return to you soon, Cecile.”
Blue eyes gazed up at me as I mounted my horse. A thin straight nose sniffed and little lips holding a tiny frown quivered.
“You promise?”
Ducking my head, I rode my horse out from the cramped stall. Cecile reluctantly moved out of the way.
“Go back to your Mama, little monster. There’ll be no more—ah” I faltered, “—customers today.”
I’ve never fled from a girl’s tears so fast in my life.
Chapter 7.
Wren
“Is that your kid?” I asked Calen.
Calen breezed past Thackery and me without a word, not even glancing back at the little girl with hair like his and skin that seemed to glow in the afternoon light. The child lingered until she noticed me watching, then squeaked like a church mouse and ran back inside the stable.
I couldn’t help but smile. “That little girl...”
“Cecile…” Calen supplied.
“Cecile must be your daughter. How old is she?” I asked.
But Calen shook his head, not meeting my eyes. “Do you ever mind your own business?” He asked, smacking his hand against his thigh like a clap of thunder. I opened my mouth to object, but he turned his horse in front of me, leaning from his saddle until his face was a hands length away.
“Don’t ask me about my past,” he growled, hinting at the violence that would follow the warning.
Gooseflesh ripped at my arms, and I shivered at the thought of it. Calen leaned back, taking up his reigns once more and continuing down the road.
Thackery and I retrieved our own horses and hurried to catch up. From then on we rode in silence, leaving the village and crossing the farmlands, until we reached the shadowy edge of the trees. Memories of my last trip through the woods danced through my head. I pulled my horse to a stop.
“Afraid of the forest, Princess?” Calen chided, licking his lips.
I wanted to bite that tongue. My lips still burned, and I had to stop myself from reaching out to touch them.
“Well,” Thackery said, pulling alongside with his horse, “to be fair, the last time we were in there the trees themselves tried to kill us.”
“Does the truth scare you so much, Mage?” Calen asked slowly. “The woods didn't try and kill you, another Mage did.”
He turned to me. “If you must know, Cecile is important to me, but she's not mine. So I don’t want to hear another word about it.”
“But she looks just like you,” I objected, knowing I should really let it go.
“I suppose to your unrefined eye all my kind look exactly the same.” Calen mused, but the muscles in his shoulders tensed like steely bars.
Did that mean the child’s mother, the one who had stared at Calen so intently had sired the boy from another unicorn? Were there other unicorns? Did that mean Calen wasn’t in love with her? I let those questions simmer for a while. Some things were better left unsaid.
We entered the forest and I couldn’t help but shiver. I flinched as a bird took flight from the branches, startled as we passed by. This was going to be an unbearably long trip if my heart shot through my throat at every little sound.
“How far do you think it is?” I finally asked.
Calen rolled his eyes. “Are you honestly asking me if we're there yet, Princess?”
It was another quarter mile before Calen answered my questions. “Two days ride, maybe three, it depends on how hard you want to work your horse, and how long I can suffer through your endless questions before calling a halt for the night.”
“Should I just be silent from now on?” I asked in disbelief.
“The woods do have ears,” he said.
Thackery scoffed. “Do a few questions scare you so much, Unicorn?”
“No—I mean, they might actually be listening. The influence of a powerful evil permeates everything here—a white-tailed rabbit, a Blue jay, anything might be turned against us. Even without my horn, I know when someone is watching me.”
With that, he kicked his horse into a gallop. The forest floor replying with a soft crunch. The ground here was fine sand covered in thin needles and dry as though it hadn't seen rain in some time.
I trained my ears to the sound of the horse’s hooves as I tried to control my own breathing—there was something else—a presence, a malevolent weight that hung in the air.
“Calen,” I whispered. “I feel him.”
I looked back at Thackery. His eyes met mine briefly with a look of confusion.
“He’s getting closer,” Calen said over his shoulder.
“How close—.” I began, but Calen cut me off.
“Back of the last bend, I'd say,” Calen replied.
I tightened the reins in my sweat-slicked fingers, “Will they catch us?” I asked.
Thackery seemed to sense the danger finally and glanced behind him.
“Calen?” He asked. I was still surprised how easily Thackery deferred to him.
“Keep going,” Calen pushed his horse even faster. Trees flew past us like a whirl of abstract paintings.
“I don't think—” Thackery hissed.
“That's an understatement,” Calen shot back.
“—we can make it,” Thackery finished with a glare.
“We can't,” Calen agreed, “but I will choose the ground where they overtake us.”
The path ahead began to narrow, crowded in by a thick growth of trees.
“Should we leave the road?” I asked, eyeing the spaces around us warily, unsure which was worse.
“Not yet,” Calen replied, then yelled, “There!”
He pointed to a half-dead pecan grove. We ran our horses with a crunch through the husks of rotten nuts littering the ground. I couldn't think of a worse place to try to hide.
Calen and Thackery slid off their horses and drew their swords. I started to dismount.
“No, Wren. Stay on your horse and keep riding,” Thackery said. “We’ll deal with them and find you by the stream in the valley below.”
I looked at Calen, wanting him to ask me to stay. I could handle myself in a fight, with or without my magic. I could.
“You'll just get in the way,” Calen said, but he was no longer looking my way. He's turned to unwrap the poisoned knives from his saddlebag.
“I’m not leaving,” I said stubbornly.
“Have it your way.” Calen sighed.
Pivoting on his heel, Calen drew another short sword with a blade like glass and silver flecks sparkling inside.
“What's that?” I asked.
Glancing behinds us, Calen smiled. “My dinner knife.”
That was one heck of a knife. “I know it’s a knife,” I replied, “but... what's inside of it?”
With a flick of his wrist, Calen threw the weapon in the air. I didn’t think, I just reached out my hand—catching the hilt of the sword—to my great surprise. It belonged in my fingers. Light and balanced, the weapon felt like it would break if I struck it against anything thicker than a cloud. I sensed something strange about it, a defiant power that I knew would not shatter against even the hardest armor. The blade pulsed with magic.
“It’s unicorn blood,” Calen said, sliding a poisoned knife into each of his prized boots.
My eyes moved to look down at it.
Calen whirled, striking a defensive stance and raising his sword. “Taking a unicorn’s blood is said to bring a terrible curse.”
“Is this your blood?” I asked.
“Don’t worry,” Calen said with a wink. “There’s no curse if it's willingly given. Or in this case, loaned—don’t lose it.”
Five men on horseback suddenly smashed through the trees. Dusk has arrived, just in time for a fight. The men
that rushed toward us seemed somehow familiar, but I could not recall their names. All five drew their swords.
“My father's men,” Thackery confirmed.
Calen smirked. “At least they’re only normal men.”
With a laugh, he moved in front of me.
The attackers ignored Thackery and instead focused on Calen. They spread out as their horses continued to charge him. Calen beckoned them forward.
Fast as lightning, the Unicorn retrieved the two knives from his boots and sent them spinning through the air to lodge in the throats of two of the riders. They fell from their horses before having time to realize they were dead.
Swinging his smoking sword low, Calen ducked beneath the slash of the lead rider, cutting out the legs from the man’s horse.
“Watch out!” I cried, but Calen had already turned and blocked the downstroke aimed at his back. He leapt onto the back of the man’s horse, pulling a long hunting knife from his belt and driving it under the man’s armpit. Calen cast the dying man to the ground and turned the horse to face the last still-mounted attacker. The bearded rider had rushed past and now wheeled his horse around in a wide arc. The man paused and then whipped his horse forward as Calen rushed to meet him.
The two horses headed straight for each other, the bearded man snarling as he prepared to cut Calen down. The snarl vanished to a look of surprise as Calen jumped forward from his horse, sailing high into the air to drive his black blade deep into the other man’s chest.
The two crashed to the ground. Calen rolled to his feet, his hands empty. Wiping the blood from his palms, he seemed to have forgotten about the lead rider. The man had since recovered from his fall and now ran toward the unicorn’s back, sword flashing through the air.
I didn’t hesitate. Running forward, I swung my silver-glass weapon at the man’s sword—and sliced straight through it. Nearly stumbling in surprise, the man tried to continue his attack with the broken fragment of a sword he still clung to—but the element of surprise was gone. Calen grabbed the man by the neck and lifted him into the air. He wrenched the broken sword from the man’s hand and drove it into its owner’s temple.
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