Into the Land of the Unicorns

by Bruce Coville

  Lightfoot sighed. “Of Luster’s seven dragons, Firethroat is the oldest and wisest. She is also the one least to be trifled with. She guards her territory well, does not take trespass lightly, and has no use for fools — a fact my uncle says would make it particularly dangerous for me to come in contact with her.”

  “The choice is simple,” said the Dimblethum, backing up to a tree and rubbing his shoulders against it. “The Dimblethum and his friends take the long way and spend seven or eight days trying to avoid the delvers. Or they take the short route and spend a day and a half hoping Firethroat is not angered by them walking the edge of her territory.” He pushed against the tree harder, sighed, then added, “The Dimblethum does not think the delvers will expect anyone to go that way. Even if they do, they will not follow unless King Gnurflax is more desperate than the Dimblethum thinks. So the Dimblethum says take the short route. If Firethroat is in a bad mood and eats the Dimblethum and his friends, at least the amulet is saved from the delvers.”

  For that there was no answer. So it was decided that they would take the dragonpath to Grimwold’s Cavern.

  “It’s just as well, in a way,” Lightfoot said to Cara later on. “It’s a much prettier route, and you will see some amazing things. Still and all . . .”

  He left the sentence unfinished. She could tell he was contemplating the fate of a fool in the claws of a dragon.

  9

  THE HUNTED

  They set off through the forest and did not stop when darkness fell. Lightfoot, putting all his energy into finding the way — and avoiding detection — was distracted and unwilling to talk.

  Cara began to stumble again. After a bit the Dimblethum picked her up and carried her in his arms. She fell asleep nestled against his warm and furry breast. When she woke, she gestured to him that she wanted to walk. He hesitated, then set her gently on her feet. She wished she could speak to him; she wanted to thank him for the ride.

  By the nearly full moon that shone through the drooping trees she saw that they had entered a swamp. Ahead of her, the Squijum was riding on Lightfoot’s back as the unicorn picked his way along a trail that led between large stretches of murky water.

  Strange dark things fluttered through the night air above them. Occasionally one would swoop close to Cara, and the whir of its rapidly beating wings would give her a start. The first time this happened she cried out in fear, but after that she kept her silence — partly because the Dimblethum had laid a heavy paw on her shoulder and scowled at her, indicating that such outbursts were a bad idea.

  So eager was she to please, to prove she was fit for this adventure, that when something snakelike slithered across their path she stopped short but managed to hold in her cry of fear. The serpent stared at her for a moment. Suddenly, without warning, it reared up and hissed at her, spreading a vivid red hood that actually glowed in the darkness. Then she did scream, and jump backward as well.

  She bumped into the Dimblethum, who seemed as startled as she was, for he, too, let out a sound of surprise. Then, leaning over her, he roared at the serpent. The sound hurt Cara’s ears. The serpent hissed again, more softly. The Dimblethum made a menacing growl deep in his throat. Cara’s heart pounded, and her skin grew cold as she stared at the serpent, wondering whether it would strike at her. The Dimblethum continued his low growl until the serpent finally dropped to its belly. Slithering forward, it slipped silently into the dark water.

  Cara didn’t object when the Dimblethum picked her up and carried her again.

  In this way, passing through swamp and field and forest, along the edges of low cliffs, beside swiftly running crystal streams, they arrived in two days at the edge of Firethroat’s territory.

  They had stopped to sleep twice, at which times Cara had been fed nuts and berries and a kind of root the Squijum dug up.

  “What is it?” she had asked the first time he came scampering up with one of the dark brown roots in his paws and handed it to her.

  “We call it tarka,” replied Lightfoot, resting his horn on her shoulder. “Twist it and see what happens.”

  When she did as he directed, the root’s nubbly husk popped open, revealing a crisp, white interior.

  “Try it,” said the unicorn.

  To her surprise, it tasted like sweet almonds. “Good!” she said, smiling at the Squijum.

  “Yah, yah hotcha like it,” he replied, dashing off into the darkness. He returned a few minutes later with another of the roots. Stopping three or four feet in front of her, he chittered something she could not understand, then tossed her the root. She caught it before it landed in her lap, prompting an enthusiastic burst of chatter from the Squijum.

  Acting on impulse, she picked up a nut and tossed it to him. Leaping into the air, the little creature caught the nut a foot and a half above the ground. Then he bounded over to her, dropped the nut in her lap, and ran about twenty feet away.

  “You like to play catch!” she cried in delight, tossing him the nut again.

  The Squijum caught it handily, and Cara spent another fifteen minutes tossing him various objects she found on the forest floor. He caught almost all of them, missing only if her throws were absurdly wide of the mark. The leaps, twists, and turns he made in accomplishing these catches were so wild that she found herself laughing out loud, the first time she had done so in longer than she could remember.

  * * *

  Lightfoot and the Dimblethum took turns watching at night. Feeling safe in their care, Cara slept soundly Yet she found herself tormented by strange dreams in which she was hunted by some faceless horror.

  The second night she was woken from one of these dreams by the Dimblethum, who placed a huge paw gently over her mouth to keep her from crying out. After a moment, when he was sure she was awake and calm, he uncovered her mouth.

  Soon after, Lightfoot came to her. His horn looked as if it had been carved from the bright and shining moon. Placing it across her shoulder, he said, “We’re being trailed.”

  Fighting down her fear, she replied, “How do you know?”

  “The Squijum was out hunting and spotted a camp. We need to move ahead as fast as possible while its owner is still resting.”

  Cara furrowed her brow. “Just one of them? I thought the delvers would be hunting us in packs.”

  “It’s not a delver,” replied Lightfoot. “It’s the man.”

  Fully awake now, she rose quickly, silently, and followed Lightfoot out of their camp. The Dimblethum lagged behind. When she turned to look back, she saw him moving about the spot, trying to erase all signs that they had been there.

  The Squijum was nowhere to be seen.

  Digging her hand in her pocket to make sure the amulet was in its place, she trudged on through the darkness.

  So obsessed were they with the danger behind that they did not remember Nedzik’s warning to flee with one eye watching before them.

  Thus it was that they did not see the delver camp until they had nearly stumbled into it.

  Lightfoot stopped so abruptly that Cara bumped into him. Only the effort she had spent training herself not to cry out when they were traveling through the swamp kept her from betraying their presence with a shout.

  Moving cautiously up beside Lightfoot, she froze when she saw not far ahead a low fire, little more than a bed of glowing coals. It was surrounded by dark forms that she took to be sleeping delvers. The reason she assumed they were delvers was that the two figures keeping watch by the fire most definitely were.

  More than ever, she was glad of the ability to communicate with Lightfoot without speaking. “What do we do now?” she asked.

  “I believe a quiet retreat is in order,” he replied silently, beginning to back away.

  Cara had long ago noticed the unicorn’s ability to move through the forest without making a single sound. She, alas, possessed no such skill. Despite her best efforts, she stepped on a dry twig that broke beneath her foot. It was a tiny sound, yet in the silence of the forest it
exploded against her horrified ears like a firecracker.

  Lightfoot froze where he stood. She did the same until the delver guards leaped to their feet and, with a bloodcurdling scream, started after them.

  “On my back!” ordered Lightfoot.

  She obeyed without hesitation. No sooner had she scrambled onto his shoulders than he was off like a rocket, hurtling into the darkness. Hunched low over his shoulders, Cara wrapped her hands in his silky mane and prayed that she would be able to hold on. Branches whipped against her as they careened wildly through the forest. Dark shapes rose before them, then vanished to the side as Lightfoot veered around them.

  So tightly were Cara and Lightfoot connected that for a moment she felt as if she were the unicorn, as if it were her legs doing the running, her aching lungs and hammering heart fueling the flight from the delvers.

  They plunged through a misty hollow, up a steep bank, in and out of patches of moonlight, until suddenly Lightfoot stopped, flanks heaving, and stood silent, listening.

  In the distance they could hear delvers crying out in anger and frustration.

  “We’ve lost them,” he said triumphantly

  It was only then that Cara realized how terrified she had been. Trying to stop the trembling that suddenly overtook her, she said, “You must be able to see in the dark. I had no idea where we were going.”

  “Half the time, neither did I,” confessed the unicorn.

  Cara caught her breath in surprise, then started to laugh.

  Their moment of triumph was short-lived. From the dark and the distance they heard a terrible roar, followed by angry battle cries. The sounds were confusing, jumbled together, and muted by distance. But when silence fell, there was no question what they meant.

  “They’ve got the Dimblethum,” whispered Cara in horror.

  10

  THE TINKER

  Cara and Lightfoot stood about a hundred feet from the delver camp. They had debated fiercely about who should go back to study the situation. When Lightfoot claimed he could move more silently, Cara pointed out that he was also more likely to be seen because of his white coat and luminous horn.

  “Actually, I can dim the horn,” he told her. “It would be a dangerous thing if I couldn’t.”

  “That doesn’t change the fact that it’s a lot easier to see that white coat of yours than it would be to spot me. I mean look at me — I practically blend into the forest!”

  Indeed, her jeans and T-shirt were so stained and mud spattered that they looked like the camouflage clothes the boys in her class sometimes wore.

  “I can’t let you go down there alone,” said Lightfoot firmly. “If they heard you, how would you get away?”

  In the end they decided they would go together, but Cara would make the closest approach to the camp, with Lightfoot hiding nearby. She agreed solemnly not to get more than fifty feet away from him.

  They also decided that it would be foolish to take the amulet with them.

  “You know, not all my relatives would approach this the same way,” said Lightfoot, resting his horn on Cara’s shoulder as she carefully hid the amulet and its broken chain in a hollow tree. “I can think of some that would insist we abandon the Dimblethum and head for Grimwold’s Cavern as fast as possible.”

  She thought about that for a minute. “It might be the sensible thing to do,” she said. “After all, the most important thing is to keep the amulet from falling into the wrong hands.”

  “That’s true,” said Lightfoot.

  Cara paused, her hand still in the tree trunk. “But leaving the Dimblethum doesn’t feel right,” she continued.

  “That’s true as well.”

  She could feel confusion beginning to creep over her. “So the question is, should we risk the mission, and the safety of all the unicorns, in order to rescue one friend?”

  “Some of my relatives would say there is no question. We have a clear duty to keep the amulet away from the enemy. This is not just our journey. The safety of the unicorns, and possibly all of Luster, depends on defending the amulet against those who would abuse it.”

  Cara slowly drew her hand from the tree. She began moving her arm back and forth, as if she were trying to decide whether to reach in and take back the amulet. The choice seemed to be crushing against her brain. “Are you trying to tell me we shouldn’t go back for the Dimblethum?” she asked.

  “I’m just pointing out the questions involved. I should probably also point out that most of my relatives don’t think much of the Dimblethum.” He paused, then added, “Of course, most of them don’t think much of me, either.”

  Though she longed for Lightfoot to make the decision, Cara sensed that he was going to defer to her in this matter — perhaps because he was confused himself. But she was torn, too. Her mind was telling her that for the good of all they should flee with the amulet, taking it as far from this place as possible. Her heart was screaming that they could not leave their friend.

  In the end, her heart made the choice. Asking herself what her grandmother would do, she found herself thinking instead about her parents. The painful memory of the way they had abandoned her made it impossible for her to do the same to anyone else.

  “We’re going to get him,” she declared.

  “That’s a very immature decision,” said Lightfoot.

  The criticism stung like a slap. “Why do you say that?” she asked sharply.

  “Because it is what I would choose,” he replied, sounding amused. “And my uncle has assured me many times that I am very immature.”

  “If your uncle wants to handle this, let him come out here and wander around in the woods with the delvers,” said Cara. “In the meantime, we have to go see what they’re doing with the Dimblethum.”

  * * *

  Creeping through the darkness, away from Lightfoot and toward the delvers, Cara could easily have wished they had decided to press on in their journey. Each movement was an agony of indecision as she tried not to make a betraying sound. Each dew-wet leaf that brushed her face, each twig that prodded her side, seemed to her racing imagination the touch of an enemy.

  Finally she drew close enough to get a clear view of the delver camp through the undergrowth. By the flickering light of the low fire she saw that the Dimblethum had been bound to a tall pole. He sagged against his ropes, as if weary and beaten. Even in the low light she could see at least two hideous wounds.

  The delvers stood in a circle around him, prodding him with their spears. They were speaking to him, but without Lightfoot at her side, she heard only rasping, guttural sounds. The Dimblethum spoke not at all; whether he was refusing to answer or had actually lost consciousness she could not tell in the dim light.

  Each time one of the delvers poked at the manbear she wanted to scream at them to leave him alone. Finally she could stand to watch no more. Moving quietly, she returned to Lightfoot’s side.

  “What can we do?” she asked after describing the hideous scene.

  He shook his head mournfully. “I do not know.”

  * * *

  They trailed the delvers for the better part of the next day. It was a horrible, frustrating time, partly because they were moving backward, away from Grimwold’s Cavern, but even more because in that time they were not able to do anything to help the Dimblethum.

  To add to their worries, they had no idea what had happened to the man who was hunting Cara. She couldn’t help but wonder if he was stalking them even as they were following the delvers.

  To top things off, the Squijum — who would normally have reappeared by this time — seemed to have vanished altogether.

  “You don’t suppose anything happened to him, do you?” asked Cara once when they were taking a break.

  “Hard to tell with that one,” replied Lightfoot.

  “Something could have happened to him. Or he may simply have lost track of us — though he is a very good hunter. He may even have lost interest; his attention span is not all that great. But
there is nothing we can do about him now. We need to focus on the Dimblethum. I’d suggest you rest while you can. There’s no telling when they’ll start moving again.”

  Though she couldn’t stop worrying, Cara did try to relax. They were only taking a break because the delvers had stopped for the same purpose. There were an even dozen of the little monsters, about half the group that had first captured the Dimblethum. According to the snatches of conversation they had been able to catch, the others had remained to continue looking for “the girl with the amulet,” as they referred to her.

  Cara thought it was rather amusing that while they were out looking for her she was trailing them. It was the only amusing aspect of the situation. Her heart ached for the poor Dimblethum. She had caught glimpses of him stumbling along, his paws bound behind him, delvers prodding him with their spears should he falter or slow. Oddly, the delvers seemed not to worry about anyone coming after them. She decided that they were so used to being the hunters that it never occurred to them that things might go the other way.

  * * *

  The delver party got ready to start out again. It was a noisy process, which made it easy for Cara and Lightfoot to keep track of them without getting too close. Cara had noticed that while the delvers occasionally moved through unmarked forest, they more often followed faint but definite paths. What surprised her was that twice these paths crossed wider paths defined by pairs of shallow ruts.

  “Is this some kind of road?” she asked Lightfoot the first time they crossed one.

  “Yes. It was made by some of the humans.”

  “There are other humans in Luster?” she asked excitedly.

  “Not many.”

  She wanted to know more, but he was focused on the problem of the delvers and the Dimblethum and didn’t want to be bothered talking about such things. She did notice that though the delvers crossed these roads, they did not follow them.