Into the Land of the Unicorns

by Bruce Coville

  Trying to keep her voice from breaking, she whispered, “Where have you been all this time, Daddy?”

  “I have been doing the family’s business. Your business, Cara Diana. I have been guarding our world against the intrusion of murdering beasts like the one that stands beside you. Even more, I have been seeking a way to enter this world, so that the hunt can end at last, and we can rest.”

  “Is that why you left me?” she asked. It was hard to force the words past the pain in her throat.

  He shook his head sadly “I never left you, sweetheart.”

  She blinked in astonishment, her heart leaping. Of all the things he might have said, this is the one she would most have longed to hear. But she did not know what to make of it, whether to trust it.

  “What do you mean?” she asked at last.

  “I didn’t leave you. Your grandmother stole you from me.”

  A wave of coldness, filled with terror and sorrow, washed over her. “What do you mean?” she asked again weakly.

  He sighed. “Do you remember that once when you were little you became very sick?”

  She nodded. “And a unicorn came and healed me. I stopped believing that for a long time. But now I know it’s true.”

  “Your grandmother summoned that unicorn,” said her father. “She was always a friend of unicorns, and they would do as she asked. But in saving you, she had created a problem.” He sighed. “That problem was me. I swear I do not know why I fell in love with your mother, Cara, don’t know if Grandmother Beloved set me on that path to get to your grandmother. I did know, though I never understood why, that it broke Ivy Morris’s heart when her daughter married a man named Hunter.” He sighed again. “At the time I didn’t know the secret of our family. But after the unicorn had come, Beloved called me, and I was initiated. You have to believe me, Cara. I did not abandon you. Your grandmother took you from me because she was afraid I would use you to get at the unicorns.”

  “And would you have?” she asked.

  Her father hesitated. “Yes,” he said at last.

  Cara felt as if her heart was being torn in half. How could her grandmother have done such a thing to her? Yet how could she not? She had been to Luster, been a friend of unicorns. Knowing what her son-in-law’s family would do if they could enter this world, she would have been forced to take action.

  Cara wondered whose pain had been greater — her own or her grandmother’s?

  Or maybe even her father’s?

  She wondered if there was anyone in the world that she could trust.

  She wondered if the hurt would ever go away again.

  “Is Grandmother Morris all right?” she asked. “Did you hurt her in the tower?”

  The question caused her father’s face to twist with pain. “What kind of a man do you think I am?” he cried.

  “I don’t know!” she screamed. “I don’t know anything anymore!”

  A horrible silence filled the cave.

  Ian Hunter knelt, careful to keep one knee on the casket, and looked directly at her. Spreading his arms to welcome her in, he whispered, “I have missed you so, my Cara, my dear one.” His eyes were large and dark with sorrow. “You don’t know yet what it means to be part of our family, Cara, don’t know the burden we carry, protecting Earth from his kind. Since you fell through here ahead of me I have been terrified that one of them would kill you before I could save you.”

  “Lightfoot has been kind to me,” she said, confused.

  “They are cunning,” her father replied with a sneer. “They knew I was coming and wanted you on their side. But you were born to help bring an end to them. Give me the amulet, sweetheart. Once I have it, we can go home.”

  “And then what?” she asked, her voice, her body, trembling.

  “Then the final hunt will begin. After a time the unicorns will be gone and our family’s task will be ended. Beloved will be able to rest at last and so will I. Then you and I can be together again. You don’t know how I’ve longed for that day, Cara, how much I regret the lost time. But Grandmother Beloved called, and I had no choice but to answer. And you — you had disappeared. I wanted to hunt for you, but first I had to be trained for our great mission. Yet I always knew that one day I would find you again.”

  Cara closed her eyes, imagining it.

  “What about Mommy?” she asked.

  She had meant to say, “my mother,” but it had been eight years since she had last seen the woman she called by that name, and when she thought of her, thought of the night she had disappeared, it was the word “Mommy” that forced its way through her throat.

  “Mommy is waiting for you,” said her father.

  Cara heard the dragon shift behind her, but it was a momentary noise, and then the great beast was quiet once more.

  Her father held out his hand. “Bring me the amulet, Cara Diana.”

  Still she stood without moving, as if frozen by hearing once more the name he had called her when she was but a toddler, the name he called her when he threw her in the air, and played peekaboo, and tucked her in at night.

  “Bring me the amulet,” he said again, his voice strong.

  Slowly she stepped forward. Raising her hands to her neck, she lifted the mended chain that held the amulet.

  Lightfoot whickered, and even though she was not connected to him, she could hear in that sound fear, and sorrow, and his sense of betrayal.

  Tears in her eyes, she took another step forward, studying her father’s face, uncertain if she would be able to do what she had to do.

  “I’m waiting, Cara,” he said, voice gentle, eyes hard.

  Cara ran toward him, raising her arms as if to embrace him. But just before she reached him she stopped and threw the amulet. It soared above his head.

  “What . . . ?” he cried, then he turned to scramble for it.

  But the Squijum was faster; he had already caught the amulet and was racing into the darkness. Ian Hunter lunged for the little creature, then suddenly twisted back, a look of fear on his face.

  He was too late. Cara had seized the golden casket that held Firethroat’s heart and was backing away from him, toward the unicorn and the dragon.

  “Cara!” he screamed. “What are you doing?”

  She said nothing.

  “Cara, give that back to me. You don’t know what kind of catastrophe you could create. Give it back to me!”

  “I’m sorry, Daddy,” she said softly. “I can’t do that.”

  “Cara, I’m your father. I demand that you give it to me.”

  She laughed, but it was a painful sound, a laugh that held eight years of sorrow and loss.

  He spoke again, more calmly. “Cara, you are a Hunter, one of the clan. You were born to this. It is the final chapter of our story, the chance to end the hunt forever. Your blood binds you — my blood, the blood of Beloved that runs in our veins. It’s family, Cara Diana, Cara Diana Hunter. Family. You belong to us, to Beloved.”

  “Family isn’t blood,” she said bitterly, continuing to back away. “Family is who loves you, who takes care of you.”

  “I wanted to take care of you!” he cried, his words pouring out in a howl of pain. “You were stolen from me!”

  The sorrow in his voice pierced her, and she wanted to run to him. But she saw that even as he mourned her loss, he was judging the distance between them, preparing to leap.

  She took another step back, then turned and ran.

  She wanted to call on Firethroat for help, but feared that if she unleashed the dragon’s wrath, the beast would destroy her father. She didn’t want to destroy him, merely wanted him sent back to Earth, far from her and the unicorns. She hadn’t thought further ahead than keeping the amulet out of his grasp.

  His leap brought him within inches of her. She ran faster, heading for the front of the cave, uncertain where she would go after that.

  “Come back here!” he roared, scrambling to his feet, sprinting after her.

  Firethroat, freed fro
m Ian Hunter’s hold on her heart, was stirring.

  “Don’t hurt him!” cried Cara, and, because she held the dragon’s heart, Firethroat was bound by her command.

  Her father tackled her. They fell together, near the edge of the cliff. He would have wrenched the casket from her then, but Lightfoot trumpeted and began to pelt the man with his hooves. Hunter drew back. Then, as if invincible to the pain, he lunged forward again. Stretching his arms, he tried to tear the golden casket from his daughter’s hands. Lightfoot struck his hands away just before they closed on the casket.

  Cara scrambled to her feet. Her father, intent on the casket, grabbed her legs. She fell again, closer to the edge. They began to wrestle. Lightfoot bugled a warning, but it went unheeded. They rolled over once and then were gone over the edge of the cliff.

  It was different from the leap from the tower of St. Christopher’s. Then, she had leaped into light, with a glimmer of hope that she might come to something better. Now, she only fell, through the night in the mountains, toward not a street but a heap of snow-covered rock so far below it made the distance from tower to street seem like a baby step. She fell with no hope, only primal terror ripping through her.

  Her father was near but no longer holding her. She could barely see him, falling, falling, just a few feet away. Some small part of her brain registered with interest that they were falling at the same speed, though he was so much heavier.

  She had heard the old story that when someone is drowning their whole life flashes before them. But drowning would be a slow death compared to this. Their speed was breathtaking. The cliffside flashed by. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, as she saw oblivion racing toward her and then — Snatch! Firethroat plucked her from the air and soared upward again.

  Her father was still falling.

  Cara was still clutching the casket that held Firethroat’s heart. Without thinking, she commanded the dragon to do her will.

  “Save him!” she screamed.

  20

  THREE DROPS

  OF BLOOD

  Cara sat, trembling, at the edge of the cliff, holding the golden casket against her chest. The Squijum crouched on her shoulder, crooning nonsense into her ear. Lightfoot stood behind her. She wondered what he was thinking.

  Ahead of them dawn was creeping over the mountains. Suddenly, Firethroat burst into the light, appearing as if from nowhere. Her claws were empty.

  Cara and her friends scrambled back from the cliff edge as the dragon returned to her cave.

  “It is done,” she murmured, folding her wings.

  “What did you do with him?” asked Cara nervously.

  The dragon regarded her with one enormous eye. “I returned him to Earth,” she said at last. “Not an easy thing to do, I assure you. But flying between worlds is another gift that dragons possess.”

  “Where?” Cara asked. “Where did you leave him?”

  “Someplace empty,” said the dragon with maddening vagueness. “I cannot go where there are people, of course. I left him safe, dry, and alive. What he does next is up to him. I care only that he does not return to Luster.”

  “Thank you,” said Cara. “I know it was not easy for you.” Stepping forward, she placed the casket on the cave floor, not far from the dragon. “Here,” she whispered, pushing it forward. “Your heart is your own again.”

  She watched a great claw reach forward and draw the golden casket away.

  Then the last of her strength left her, and the pain and the loss came flooding in. Turning from the dragon, from her friends, Cara bolted into the darkness at the back of the cave. When she stumbled and fell, she made no move to get up, simply lay on the floor, sobbing her grief and pain, until a welcome darkness blanketed her mind.

  * * *

  When she woke, it was dark again. The only light came from a sprinkling of stars behind her, and — to her right — a faint glow from the dragon’s fiery nostrils.

  Whimpering, she curled into a ball, trying to blot the memory of the previous night from her mind.

  After a while she realized that someone was standing over her. Opening her eyes, she saw the glow of Lightfoot’s horn. A look of gentle concern filled his eyes. He knelt beside her and she wound her arms around his neck, burying her face in the clean perfection of his mane.

  “Do you hate me?” she thought.

  “Why?” he asked, seeming startled by the question.

  “Because I am a Hunter.”

  “You are Cara,” he replied, “and you are not chained by blood. You are a friend of unicorns.”

  Though she tried to hold it in, another sob tore out of her. Clinging to Lightfoot, she wept until her lungs were sore, her face a soggy mess, whispering, “Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.”

  “I have no way to heal a wound such as this,” said Lightfoot sadly, when she was done.

  She said nothing, only tightened her grip on him, holding him as if she were tottering on the edge of an abyss far deeper and more terrifying than the one from which Firethroat had saved her.

  “Are you all right?” he asked after a while.

  She shook her head. “How can I be all right? I missed him so much for so long. And then . . .”

  “Family ties are strange,” he replied. “I have thought about them often, but never —”

  He was interrupted by the Squijum. The little creature had been sitting in front of them, holding the amulet. Suddenly he darted forward and placed the golden bauble on Cara’s knees. As Lightfoot stepped back, the Squijum chittered something, then scrambled up Cara’s arm to her shoulder and kissed her on the cheek. As if startled by his own boldness, he scampered back down and raced to the mouth of the cave, where he sat on his haunches, chattering incomprehensibly.

  “I wish I could understand you,” she said, half-amused, half-irritated.

  “An interesting thought, young human,” said Firethroat, interrupting the Squijum’s chatter. “And perhaps the solution to a vexing problem.”

  “What problem?” asked Cara.

  The dragon sighed, sending a wave of warmth in Cara’s direction. “I owe you a great boon for what you have done.”

  “A boon?”

  “It is something like a reward,” explained Lightfoot. “Dragons do not like to be in anyone’s debt, and you have done this lady a great service. It would be wise to accept whatever she offers with as much grace as you can manage.”

  “But you already saved my father,” whispered Cara.

  “It was commanded of me,” said Firethroat. “But my heart was freely returned, and the boon must be freely given.”

  Cara paused, feeling the world was moving too fast for her. After a moment she said, “I would be most grateful to accept your boon, Lady Firethroat.”

  The dragon made a sound of approval. “Come with me,” she said. “I would prefer to do this in private.”

  Cara followed Firethroat deep into the cave, then into a separate chamber. Here the darkness was complete, save for the dim light that came from the dragon’s nostrils. Suddenly, Firethroat opened her mouth and shot forth a brief gout of flame.

  Cara gasped in wonder, for at once the chamber came to life with a thousand colors, as piles of gold and jewels reflected back the burst of flame. For a moment Cara thought the purpose of the flame had been to show her what was in the room. She wondered if this was to be Firethroat’s boon, some piece of fabulous treasure.

  She was wrong, on both counts. Firethroat had used her flame to light a torch mounted in the wall. Now its low, flickering light danced on the gems, some as big as Cara’s fist, that littered the floor.

  The dragon cast her eye over a pile, then reached into it and pulled forth a jeweled chalice. “This should do,” she said, passing it to Cara.

  “Thank you.”

  The dragon chuckled. “That is not the boon.”

  Cara blinked.

  “You didn’t want it to be the boon, did you?” asked Firethroat.

  She shook her head, hoping she was
n’t getting herself into more trouble.

  Firethroat stared at her. “You held my heart in your hands and returned it to me, when you could have made me your slave.”

  Cara shivered. The thought had never occurred to her. She found it repulsive.

  “I want you to understand the granting of this boon,” said the dragon. “This is only the third time in more thousands of years than I care to remember that I have done this for a human. Come here — step close.”

  Hesitant, nervous, Cara did as the dragon asked. As she watched, Firethroat ran the first talon of her right front foot up and down the scales of her neck.

  “Here!” she said at last. Grasping one of the scales, she wrenched it from her neck. Blood welled from the wound, steaming hot.

  “Catch it!” she ordered.

  Cara held the chalice beneath Firethroat’s neck.

  Three large drops of blood fell, steaming and smoking, into the chalice.

  “Now drink them.”

  “What?” cried Cara.

  “Drink them. Quickly, while they are still hot and the magic is strong.”

  Cara stared into the steaming chalice. Lightfoot’s words about accepting the boon with grace sounded in her head. Closing her eyes, she lifted the chalice to her lips. Then she threw back her head and drank.

  Fire scalded her throat, raced along her veins. The chalice fell from her hands. She closed her eyes, stiffened, nearly fell, straightened, stood firm.

  “Are you all right?” asked Firethroat, not in Cara’s language, but in the ancient tongue of the dragons, a language of fire that came from deep in the belly.

  And Cara understood.

  “This is my boon,” said Firethroat, “the best I have to offer. It is the gift of tongues, of knowledge of the languages of all creatures. Now there are none in Luster to whom you cannot speak, none to whom you must be a stranger.”

  “It is a great gift, and I am deeply honored,” said Cara.

  “Small return for the return of my heart,” said Firethroat.