Horn of the Unicorn

by Rhyannon Byrd

  Though Montgomery had fortified himself with the potent power of the Goddess, she must only have allowed him but a small sip, for Zarnak found the man no match for his superior skill. Or perhaps, he thought as he and Montgomery paced an ever narrowing circle, the answer was as simple as motivation, for there could be no doubt that his immeasurable love for Tess was stronger than her uncle’s hate. He cautiously avoided the strikes of the Englishman’s sword, and waited patiently for the opening that he knew would soon be his.

  The Chancellor was tiring quickly.

  The old man stumbled, panting hard as he sluggishly regained his feet, and then, for just a moment, Montgomery looked past him, to his right, and there was a smile of such pure, tainted joy upon his decrepit face that Zarnak felt his heart go cold with terror. He spun quickly, praying to find Tess in her place beneath the stands, but she wasn’t there. And when Montgomery’s words reached him, he knew he’d never known such cold, absolute horror. It was piercing, as if his flesh had been sliced open. A searing, stark, unfathomable terror that choked him, making him crazed.

  “Mattson,” the old man called out, still smiling that sickly smile with his dull, yellowed teeth as Zarnak spun back to face him with his hands clenched around his hilt, ready to torture the bastard to death if he did not hand her over. Though it was forbidden, he had no doubt that the desperate Montgomery had ordered one of his men to take her whilst he was distracted in the fight.

  Gods, he’d been such a fool!

  Montgomery’s mouth curled with vile victory. “You may kill the insufferable little bitch,” he called out loudly. “I’ve no use for her now that she’s become this sidhe’s whore.”

  Lurching across the stage toward her sister, Emily cried out from her place on the dais, and from the corner of his eye Zarnak watched as Alyx instantly knocked her to the ground with a powerful backhanded swipe. He turned quickly, already running upon the squelching black stench of the ground as he took in the same nightmarish sight that Emily had reacted to—an image of a short, stout bull of a man stepping out from behind the far left dragon banner, a wide-eyed, terrified Tess trapped against the front of his body, the brute’s big, dirt-streaked hands clamped meanly over her mouth. Her eyes pleaded for his forgiveness, and he roared at the demonic glee burning in this Mattson’s pale, ice-blue stare.

  “Tess!” he shouted hoarsely, running, willingly sacrificing his own life by turning his back on Montgomery, his heart filled with nothing but the knowledge that he had to reach her. And then everything happened in a blinding, stunning, whirling blur of chaos as he reached for the dagger in his boot, and it took him a moment to realize that the roaring in his ears was the sound of his rage.

  He watched the events unfold, almost in slow motion, as if through a thick, torrential sheet of rain, as Mattson raised a long, lethal dagger before Tess’ breast. His arm went back as he ran. Then his own dagger was slicing through the air, nailing the smiling bastard in his throat, the dark blood spurting from his neck in a crimson spray that flew out in a wide, sickening arc.

  Zarnak stumbled, banging one knee hard upon the ground, then quickly righting himself as he gritted his teeth against the searing pain—and the next thing he knew, Tess was in his arms. As he pulled her to him, he knew that moment was the last that he would ever hold her close, trapped against the pounding beat of his heart. She lifted her precious, tear-streaked face and he pressed his mouth to the sweet, tender swell of her mouth, breathing his last kiss of life into her, then slowly fell to his knees once more, his cheek pressed lovingly to the gentle curve of her belly as he clutched at her, his fingers going numb while the edges of his vision blurred into blackness. Tess pulled at him, shouting, not understanding, and then he knew the moment she saw the dagger in his back, because she screamed…and screamed…and screamed.

  The sounds of wrenching, devastating heartbreak followed him into death.

  * * * * *

  Tess stared down at the fallen body of the man she loved, while one thought spiraled upon itself in the darkened, pain-filled cavern of her mind, over and over again. He was gone, because of her, lost to her forever, and she had never told him. Never shared those sweet, simple words, when nothing in her life had ever been truer.

  Through the shimmering wash of hot, burning tears, she raised her gaze up to the hate-filled face of her uncle, his evil malice a palpable force that surrounded him, and behind him the Blood Goddess slithered upon her throne, laughing softly beneath her breath while her lifeless eyes gleamed with pure, hateful joy.

  And suddenly Tess found she was moving without thought, purely on instinct, as if her actions unraveled before her eyes like the turning pages of a book. She saw herself taking the serpent-headed dagger from her beloved’s back, the raw, gaping wound bleeding beneath the tear in his shirt, and she looked up at her uncle. The intent in her bleak, desolate gaze must have been so clear…so powerful…that his smile faltered, his hand betraying the slightest tremble as he struggled not to cower.

  She clutched the dagger within her damp palm, already able to feel his death—to feel the give of his sickly flesh as she thrust into his chest, cutting through muscle and tendon and organ, stealing his life as he had just stolen hers. She began to move, stepping around the fallen body of the man who had taken her heart with him, when suddenly a voice whispered in her mind.

  Love is life.

  She felt it, then, the answer flowing through her in a great, glowing wash of emotion, and she stopped, giving herself over to the simple, perfect words rushing through her thoughts.

  You cannot bring him back with hate, mortal one. The voice was reverent and soft, innocent and pure, like the dulcet voice of an angel, and Tess listened, riveted, feeling frozen in time. Only a sacrifice of love can save him now. Only through a sacrifice of love, of blood for blood, innocence for sin, will the light grant you unity.

  Yes, she could see it now, for as Zarnak had said, everything existed with duality. The light and dark. Love and hate. Life and death.

  And she loved the man at her feet—the giving, selfless wonder of her life who had so easily captured her heart—so much more than she hated the monster who had killed him.

  She breathed deeply, falling to her knees at his side, aware of the stunned whispers moving through the crowd—of Emily crying out, as if she knew what Tess meant to do. Before anyone could stop her, Tess drew the dagger down the center of her left forearm and hissed at the biting, fiery pain that engulfed her, her head roiling with the blackness of it as she pushed her lover completely to his stomach and pressed her arm over the hateful wound in his back. She lay her cheek upon his firm shoulder, breathing in the beautiful scent of his hair, and felt her life flowing into him, knowing that she would gladly die a thousand times so that he might live.

  Yes, she trusted him now. Trusted him to rescue Emily. Trusted him with her love, with her life. With so much more than her body.

  She loved him with her soul…and then she drifted off into the gentle, comforting darkness, ready to wait for him forever…until the end of time.

  * * * * *

  He could hear words, like a distant nightmare within his brain, and he struggled for their meaning, but it kept fluttering away from him, like a shadow escaping the clutching, tenuous grasp of his mental fingers. He fought and twisted and struggled for a hold, until one moment he was drifting in a tender, mellifluous blackness lit by a thousand gently pulsing stars, and in the next, he was there, alive and breathing, aware of the gentle weight of Tess upon his back, the vile stench of the pulpy battlefield beneath his cheek.

  He rolled, and there was a low, guttural cry burning in his throat that he did not have the air to scream out into the bloodied arena as she slumped off him and sprawled onto the ground. His eyes and ears and lungs burned as he saw the raw, gaping slit in her arm, the bloodied dagger still clenched in her slender fingers, and he reached for her, pulling her slack body to his chest, leaning forward to press a gentle kiss to her velvety lips, while
everything inside him shattered. Shattered and ripped and tore open, until there was only the fiery, single flame of burning intent inside him, seething and savage.

  He laid her beautiful body against the cold, damp ground, then gained his feet and turned his deadly gaze on Montgomery. There was a sickly, yellowish cloud around the man, as if the rot of death itself were already cloaking him, hovering in anticipation. Gripping his steel within his blood-covered hand, Zarnak strode forward, and Montgomery stared in shock, then cut his eyes to the now frowning Goddess. He was, it appeared, too stupid to run.

  “My Lady,” he called out, his hollow voice quivering like a lone weed trapped in the barreling force of a storm, “I have served you with my life. I call upon you to help me now!”

  “Nae,” she seethed, “for you are a fool.” The biting words came slowly, enunciated with crisp, careful detail, like a person struggling to rein in their temper. “A cowardly fool who allowed in the light by breaking the rules of this battleground and who has now stolen from me my victory. Because of you, I have lost my right to strike him down. So no, I will not help you. I will not weaken my kingdom with your stench any longer, Montgomery, for you have failed me today.”

  Montgomery’s yellowed eyes found Emily, her thin arm trapped within Alyx’s brutal grip, her fey face shocked pale and thin, eyes appearing like huge grey hollows within the thick rim of her ink-black lashes.

  “There is still that one,” he called out hoarsely, pointing one bony finger at Emily, who only stared back at him, her slim frame vibrating with unmitigated contempt. “I can still offer you the blood of her innocence, and you shall owe me for the sacrifice!” he cried out, spittle dripping from the corner of his thin, pasty lips.

  The Goddess’ indolent eyes narrowed, the corners of her mouth curling in a taunting, scornful smile. “Think you that I need your permission, Montgomery? Yes, I shall have the maiden and enjoy her well, with my beautiful Alyx’s assistance, but I owe you nothing. Consider her payment for all the miserable trouble you’ve put me through.”

  “You can’t do that!” he cried out, eyes wide with abject terror. “Without me, you never would have learn—”

  “Enough!” Her white shoulders shook with mocking laughter as she regarded him the way one might look upon a pesky insect before stomping it beneath her shoe. “Since the moment you became Chancellor, that insufferable ego of yours has been your downfall, Montgomery. I’m afraid I do not take the loss of my pleasures lightly.”

  The old man made a harsh sobbing sound, realizing that he stood helpless, the pitiful sum of his lifetime’s misdeeds. Turning back to Zarnak, who now stood only a step away, he dropped his sword, knowing he was no match for the warrior, and threw his thin arms up into the air, yelling up to the dark, blood-red sky. “I call on the powers of the Goddesses of Dark—”

  “Nice try, but your time has run out, you bastard,” Zarnak snarled. “Only death will answer you now.” And he swung his sword in a blurring, blinding flash of steel, the blade arcing through the air.

  Montgomery blinked at him in stunned surprise, still standing before him, and a slow, sickly smile began to spread across the Englishman’s face, his yellowed eyes burning with triumph, until Zarnak lifted the sword and showed him the bloodied, crimson blade.

  “No,” he gasped, but the single word came gargled with the blood that frothed upon his thin lips, and as he bent forward to inspect his body, the top portion, from right shoulder to left hip, slipped away from his legs and crumpled upon the ground, a wide river of blood spreading out around him, crimson and dark against the lifeless pallor of his sallow, papery skin.

  Zarnak closed his eyes against the sickening sight and turned, his vision blurring with tears as he ran to Tess’ lifeless form and went to the ground beside her, pulling her gently into the cradle of his arms as he keened softly and rocked back and forth, whispering into her ear, her long dark hair lying over her face in a tangled mess. Then he jerked to a sudden, chilling stillness as he listened to the soothing words creeping silently through his pain-ravaged mind.

  Kiss her wound and breathe your life back into her, for you have earned your happiness and vanquished evil, all for the name of love.

  With his eyes squeezed tightly shut, he cared not if he was crazy as he lifted her bloodied arm to his mouth and pressed his lips tenderly…reverently…against her ruined flesh. Hot tears trailed down the brutal chill of his skin, but he rocked her in his arms and brought her mouth to his, breathing his air into her empty lungs, again and again, until he felt the soft, gentle rush of breath against his trembling lips.

  “Tess?” he gasped in awe, lifting his face to look into her open, luminous eyes, and his heart threatened to explode within his chest as she lifted her wounded arm to his face and a beautiful, precious smile curled across her blood-smeared mouth. He tried to hold himself together, but his chest heaved and he sobbed roughly in great shivering bursts of emotion, uncaring of who witnessed his tears. There was simply no containing the wondrous wave of ecstasy that thundered through him in a brilliant, bursting glow of vibrant happiness.

  “No…don’t cry,” she rasped huskily, and her beautiful, velvety brown eyes went hot with moisture, shimmering and soft in their passion. And then, with the truth of her words shining warm in her gaze, she whispered, “I love you, Zarnak. With all my heart and soul. With my very life, I love you, and I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you that before.”

  He shook his head, unable to speak, but he managed a small smile down at her, and lifted the edge of his shirt to wipe at the blood he had smeared against her lips. She cupped his face, and he stilled, eyes going wide, when he saw her arm. “Gods, Tess, your wound is healed!”

  She grinned in answer, the curve of her lush mouth somehow provocative and shy all at once, and then it seemed that once his voice had been found, he could not stop the words from pouring out.

  “Oh gods, Tess, I love you. I love you. I thought I had lost you! When this is over I’m going to wring your gorgeous neck for doing what you did,” he vowed in a harsh, aching tone, “and then I’m going to take you to bed and fuck your sweet little ass until you can’t walk for an entire month. A year!”

  “I’m holding you to that,” she laughed softly, only to have the beautiful sound interrupted by the hard, slashing voice of the Goddess.

  “Such a sweet, disgusting show of emotion,” she sneered, silencing the rumbling of the bloodthirsty crowd with a wave of her pale, slender hands. “I’ve had more than enough.”

  Zarnak pressed another lingering, hungry kiss upon Tess’ mouth, then stood, pulling her gently to his side, her hand joined with his, their fingers laced tightly together. Gods, he’d come so close to losing her, he thought savagely, his heart filled with violent passion, and his hand tightened, matched by the slender strength of her own.

  Staring at the pale picture of evil sitting upon the monstrous throne, he said, “And what of you?”

  The Goddess tilted her head to the side, one long tendril of ink-black hair curling around the milky whiteness of her throat. “What about me, Silver one?”

  “I challenge you next, Goddess.” And then, squeezing Tess’ hand, he knew what he must say. “We challenge you. We challenge your dark power against the pure, invincible brilliance of our love.”

  The Blood Goddess appeared stunned at his words, for a moment unmoving, simply watching them. Then, slowly and with a casual indifference completely at odds with the hard cast on her perfect features, she said, “I think not today, beautiful sidhe, though the idea is infinitely tempting, for I’m sure the feast of your life would be like none other. But you’ve too much of the light about you now for my taste. Another day, perhaps?”

  He smiled hardly. “Without doubt.”

  “Then you may go now,” she drawled, and her answering smile was painfully cold.

  Zarnak looked a meaningful glance at Emily. “With pleasure, but the woman is ours.”

  One black brow arched high upon the pale p
erfection of the Goddess’ forehead. “You’ve no claim on her,” she laughed, “and I’ve already given her to Alyx, one of my most trusted Dragon Guard.” Her head tilted oddly to the side, almost like a doll’s, her eyes as black and vapid. She lazily flicked her tongue against one deadly incisor and murmured, “Besides, it’s been far too long since I’ve enjoyed the rich, lush innocence of a broken maiden’s blood. This young mortal should be honored to be my sacrifice.”

  Tess trembled at Zarnak’s side, but he stayed her with the slightest pressure of his hand, and turned his attention to the man named Alyx. The powerful soldier stood too still—like some silent, coiled reptile just before the deadly strike, but the Goddess was too caught up in herself to notice. The dark warrior’s glittering green eyes moved questioningly over Tess, then himself, in some strange, intent way…as if studying them, seeking beneath their skin something indefinable that lay within, and then he turned his head and looked down at Emily, who somehow managed to return his intimidating, penetrating gaze without fear. She did not even flinch, and Zarnak recognized in her the same unique courage possessed by the fascinating woman at his side.

  He gave Tess’ fragile fingers another reassuring squeeze and watched as Alyx rolled his shoulders in a sharp, frustrated gesture of tensing muscle, as if trying to throw off some unwanted idea that had latched onto his back. The soldier’s long fingers flexed at his sides, then tightened into fists, then relaxed again as he lifted one hand to Emily’s pale cheek and stroked the raw-looking bruise he had put upon her cheek when he’d knocked her down. He stroked it softly, almost reverently, then turned back to the Goddess, who had finally taken notice of his odd behavior. She watched him coolly, her black gaze narrow and intent. In a low, rumbling tone, he said, “I do not think you know the meaning of sacrifice.”

  “Oh Alyx,” she laughed, licking her lips as if she could already taste the potent spill of Emily’s blood, “do not let that maudlin display ruin all that we have shared together.” She smiled slyly. “Now be a good boy and rape the scrawny little mouse. Then I shall lick her warm, succulent blood from your magnificent cock for my treat, just before I sink my teeth into her and swallow her down bite by…satisfying bite.”