“No one knows much about unicorns,” he began. “They’re elusive and rare. That being said, we do have one advantage.”
“Which is?”
“Roxanne.” He leaned forward to look at Roxanne, who sat across from him. “You did say you could summon the unicorn, didn’t you?”
“It was a figure of speech,” Roxanne muttered.
“Ah, silly of me to have forgotten the old ‘summon a unicorn’ adage.” Effrax’s gaze could have burned a hole in Roxanne’s head, so focused on her was he. “I didn’t have the privilege of royal tutoring as a child, but I’m familiar with basic lore. It’s said that unicorns can be called and tamed by fair, innocent, demure maidens who sit alone in their forests and sing for them.”
“You think I’m demure?” growled Roxanne.
“I don’t know about the nonsense and embellishments put into the old wives’ tales, but I do know those tales are based on a grain of truth,” said Effrax. “And whatever you may or may not be, Tigress, there’s no denying that you have an exceptional gift.”
Thorion watched Roxanne, waiting for her response. She stared at her hands, which were clenched into fists on her lap. After a long pause, she looked at him, catching his gaze.
“Fine,” she said softly. “I’ll try it.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Hope is an emotion as dangerous and futile as any other.”
~ Cylion Stellarion, Second Age
Roxanne lay awake in her guest room, staring at the canopy of her bed. Why was she so nervous? She’d spent the better part of two months honing her new powers. True, she had never tried to exert her will over anything bigger than the snowfox, but that shouldn’t stop her from making an effort.
The problem was there was too much pressure. Keriya and Thorion had placed their trust in her. She was their last hope, and if she couldn’t find the unicorn . . .
She sighed and ran her hands through her hair. For the first time, she truly appreciated how Keriya had felt when she’d first tried to find Thorion.
Roxanne gazed out her window through the divide in the thick curtains. The snow on the rooftops reflected the light of the Oldmoon, gilding the night with cold brightness. She swung her feet off the bed, knowing sleep was a lost cause. She donned her green dress and winter cloak, slipped into her leggings and boots, and eased her door open. The hallway was lit by a single lantern and was as still as a graveyard. No one else was having trouble sleeping.
Roxanne stole down the wooden stairs to the common room. Though the fire was sure to have died, the hearthstones would still be warm. When she arrived, she saw someone was awake. Thorion lay on the floor, his scales glinting like embers in the glow of the smoldering coals. His head rested on his forepaws and his eyes were wide and vacant. For a moment Roxanne feared something was wrong with him; then his ears twitched and his pupils contracted. He tilted his head and turned to look at her.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “Didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Another shape rose behind Thorion, silhouetted against the faint light. Keriya had been curled against his side. Fletcher’s face, thinner than ever after their hard trek, emerged from the shadows in the corner.
Roxanne shook her head, smiling ruefully. “You couldn’t sleep, either?”
“I’d just managed to doze off,” Keriya yawned.
“Look, Keriya, about the unicorn . . .” Roxanne hesitated. She wanted to tell her friends not to get their hopes up. She wanted to warn them that she wasn’t sure she could do what had to be done. But when she opened her mouth again, what came out was, “Do you want to go look for it?”
“Now?” Fletcher wrinkled his nose. “It’s the middle of the night.”
Roxanne shrugged. “Better than lying around, waiting for the sun to come up.”
Keriya sprang to her feet, all traces of fatigue gone. Thorion rose quietly, and Fletcher scrambled after them. Keriya grabbed her cloak and eased the front door open. It swung inwards on silent hinges and the four of them slipped into the night.
They plodded through Sairal in silence. The only sound was the crunch of their feet against the hard-packed snow and the low whisper of wind as it ghosted between the houses.
When they reached the pikes at the northern edge of town, luck was with them. The wall was under construction, and they found a gap in the pylons wide enough to fit through.
They tromped across a hilly plain until they reached the forest blanketing the high mountain. As soon as they entered the cover of the trees, it grew warmer. These woods were lush and vibrant—pines sported emerald needles on snow-heavy boughs, and red dogwood branches bore vines of ice orchids, which bloomed even in the wintertime.
Sairal vanished from sight as they delved into the wild. Roxanne didn’t know where she was going, but when they reached a glade with a softly trickling waterfall, she stopped. This seemed like a magical place, perfect for a unicorn. The falls emptied into a glassy pool and the clearing itself was open and bright, dotted with mossy rocks and ringed by evergreens and birches.
Now that they were here, Roxanne’s uncertainties resurfaced. “I’m not sure what to do,” she admitted. “What did you do when you called Thorion?”
Keriya furrowed her brow. “I tapped into the magic Shivnath gave me, and it took over. I don’t know how I did it. The only thing I remember is the feeling of power.”
“You had to have done something. Magic can’t wield itself.”
“I was very focused,” Keriya offered lamely. “I concentrated on what I wanted, and it happened.”
Roxanne already knew intent was crucial to any spell, so this advice was no help. Just as you had to intend to move your arm to pick something up, or intend to move your legs if you wanted to walk, you had to intend to do something specific when wielding. All the magic in the world was useless if she didn’t know how to direct it.
She began pacing, treading fretful furrows through the untouched snow of the glade. “Don’t know where to start,” she muttered. “How would I recognize its mental signature, or connect to its mind? And what if it doesn’t want to come? What if—”
“Hey.” Keriya’s soft voice stopped her in her tracks and she looked up. The pale girl gave her a soft smile. “If I could do it, you definitely can.”
Roxanne’s lip quivered. She looked to Thorion, and found he watched her with the same heart-wrenching expression of quiet confidence that was on Keriya’s face.
“What if I fail?” she whispered, hating herself for voicing her misgivings.
“We try again somewhere else,” said Keriya, still smiling. “But I don’t think you will.”
Her friends’ belief in her caused warmth to bloom in Roxanne’s chest, burning away her doubts. She could do this.
Is anyone out there? she tried, attempting to sense nearby wildlife. She stopped that line of thought—she wasn’t searching for any old animal, she was searching for a unicorn. Focusing on the mental image she’d received from the snowfox, she tried again.
Unicorn, if you’re here, please come to us. We need your help. She sent her thoughts as far and wide as she could, closing her eyes as she waited for a response. Without her vision, her other senses sharpened. The scent of pine was fresh and crisp. The forest breathed as a breeze brushed the treetops. She heard the patter of tiny footsteps—small creatures foraging in the night.
Long minutes passed. Roxanne sent wave after wave of thoughts out to blanket the mountain. Only when Fletcher gasped did her concentration break. Her eyes flew open and she glared at him. “Do you mind? I’m trying to—”
“Look,” he whispered, pointing with a shaking finger.
Roxanne turned, scanning the clearing. She was so busy looking for whatever Fletcher had seen that her eyes slid past it at first—it stood in the midnight gloom of the trees, its hide blending into the darkly sparkling snowdrifts. Then it st
epped into a puddle of moonlight, revealing itself.
Roxanne stifled a gasp of her own. The unicorn was more beautiful than the fox’s memory had shown. He stood on long, willowy legs, and his mane looked like it had been spun from clouds. His muzzle was narrow and elegant, and his horn was nearly three hands long, tapering to a diamond point. Iridescent indigo blue eyes regarded her with an alarming intensity.
It has been a long time since I had such interesting visitors. Who are you? His thoughts were unlike any Roxanne had encountered before. Animals communicated through images, feelings, memories, colors—things her brain instinctively translated into language—but the unicorn had a distinct voice, and so precise were his thoughts that Roxanne could almost hear him speaking human words in her head.
My name is Roxanne Fleuridae, she replied, ashamed of her own poor communication skills. I called you because we need a healer.
She stood aside to present Thorion, who stood behind her like a shining statue. The bronze and crystal beasts stared at one another for a long moment. Then the unicorn bent one foreleg and sank into a bow, dipping his horn toward the ground.
Welcome home, dragon. The world has grown cold without your light.
“Thank you,” said Thorion, arching his neck to return the bow. Was the dragon responding to the unicorn’s gesture, or his thoughts? If it was the latter, did that mean Thorion could hear him?
“Unicorn,” said Roxanne, cringing at the gracelessness with which she addressed the creature, “this is Thorion Sveltorious, and he’s sick. We heard you have great healing powers, and we were hoping you could help him.” She spoke aloud for the benefit of her human companions. She sent accompanying thoughts to the unicorn, though something in the shrewdness of his gaze made her believe he could understand the Allentrian tongue.
My powers are great, thought the unicorn, but you came to me in vain. I cannot heal the drackling.
“What?” A punch of horror shot through Roxanne’s stomach. Of all the ways she had envisioned the mission failing, this had not been one of them. “You don’t even know what’s wrong with him!”
The unicorn tossed his regal head and stamped a cloven hoof in the snow. He looked at Thorion. You are shadowed.
Thorion nodded and Roxanne frowned. So he could hear the unicorn. Why was it that Thorion could hear the unicorn’s thoughts, but Roxanne couldn’t hear Thorion’s?
As I surmised, this is a sickness of the soul, the unicorn continued. And I cannot change a soul.
“Does that mean there’s no hope?” asked Thorion. Keriya turned to him, aghast, and Fletcher put his hands to his mouth. Though they could only hear half the conversation, by now it was obvious that the conversation was going badly.
Only if you had hoped to cure the incurable, the unicorn replied. The Shadow has latched onto you. It will spread until it infects every thread within you. However, while your body is surely doomed, there are steps you can take to save your soul.
Thorion’s lips curled in a snarl. He stepped forward, glaring at the unicorn.
Yes, thought the unicorn. The only way to save the yet-untainted threads of your magicsource is to do as Valerion Equilumos once did, ages ago.
Roxanne’s frown deepened. Not only could Thorion hear the unicorn, he could send his own thoughts to the creature—yet she was still deaf to his mindvoice.
Effrax had once told her that powerful wielders used lifemagic to communicate telepathically with other living organisms, but he’d also said Thorion didn’t use lifemagic to communicate. Evidently, the dragon and the unicorn were operating on a different wavelength, one Roxanne couldn’t understand. What was it he hadn’t wanted her to hear?
“What you suggest can’t be done,” Thorion said aloud, rattling his wings.
Valerion did it, thought the unicorn, unruffled by his aggressive show. If you do not wish Necrovar to steal your soul, you will find a way to do the same . . . else you doom the world.
“You refuse to help, yet I know you have hidden powers,” Thorion hissed. “If I die, may the blood of Selaras be on your conscience for the rest of your days!”
Ah, young dragon, the unicorn thought, gazing upon Thorion with unspeakable sorrow. You began to die the moment you learned to live.
Thorion roared at the unicorn, who didn’t so much as flinch.
“Thorion, aretraté,” Keriya cried in his native language. “Dor endral ne tesevos!”
The roar died in Thorion’s throat. He blinked and looked around, as if he wasn’t sure how he had gotten there. Slowly, he folded his wings and backed away.
“I . . . apologize for my actions,” he said shakily to the unicorn. “I have the answers I came for, though they weren’t the ones I wanted. I will leave you now.”
The unicorn made no reply. With a flash of silver he vanished, cantering into the heart of his forest.
After a strained silence, Fletcher cleared his throat. “I take it that didn’t go well.”
“The unicorn can’t help,” Thorion said in a hollow voice. He snaked around and trudged out of the clearing, looking crumpled and defeated. Keriya hurried after him. Roxanne and Fletcher trailed behind to give them space.
By the time they re-emerged onto the plain, the sky was growing light. The sun crawled over the eastern peaks as they slipped through the pike fence into Sairal, its light diluted by a misty haze.
They reached the inn without incident. The innkeeper was shocked to see that they had already been up and about, but he wasted no time in making them a hearty—if somewhat bland—breakfast.
They ate in silence. Thorion picked at his plate before slinking to the corner by the fireplace. Roxanne didn’t blame him for wanting to be alone. She didn’t know what had passed privately between the two beasts, but she was sure of one thing: if the unicorn had been their last resort, then they were out of resorts. They’d reached a dead-end.
When the royals came downstairs, it fell to Roxanne to explain everything. She retold the story three times—to Effrax, to Max, and finally to Seba when the princess joined them.
“Then the unicorn told Thorion to do what Valerion had done,” Roxanne finished, “and Thorion told him it couldn’t be done. That was the end of it.”
Seba rounded on Max. “What did Valerion do?”
“He gave his soul to the gods of Selaras,” Effrax supplied. “They used his magic to wield a spell powerful enough to imprison Necrovar.”
The princess gave him a flat look. “Everyone knows Valerion’s story—I’m asking how he did it. How was he able to work with the gods? How did they bypass the binding laws to take his soul?”
“Seba, let it go,” said Max, waving a weary hand. “You’re trying to prevent Thorion’s soul from being taken, aren’t you?”
Roxanne winced at his callous choice of words, but his argument subdued Seba.
“You’re right. I wasn’t thinking,” she said, in a tone that might have sounded contrite if it hadn’t been so cold.
“Maybe the unicorn wasn’t suggesting we do anything to Thorion,” said Effrax. “Maybe it was suggesting we seek help from the gods. We should go to the Valaani Temple and ask the phoenix-god for help.”
“Would Valaan be allowed to help?” said Keriya. “I thought gods couldn’t interfere with mortal affairs.”
“Ah, that’s the beauty of it,” Effrax said with a dark smile. “Thorion isn’t a mortal—he’s a dragon.”
“You would cross the continent to bring Thorion to Valaan?” Seba scoffed. “Why waste all that time? Bring him to the Zumarran Sanctum here in the Galantasa. Better yet, make a sacrifice and ask the Chardons to change him, if you’re going to turn to the gods.”
“As a phoenix, Valaan is better equipped to deal with this,” Effrax argued.
“I can’t bring Thorion to the Fironem while he’s sick,” said Keriya. “Shivnath said that’s where Necrovar
is.”
Effrax narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you afraid?”
“Why do you want to go there so much?” she shot back.
“Would you like a numbered list, or a fully written report?”
“Let’s see what Thorion thinks,” Fletcher interjected.
Keriya drew a calming breath and looked at the dragon. “Quoras celtral fira?”
“Tenerey nhilos oaevriu laesra.” Thorion turned to the room at large and said in Allentrian, “For lack of better options, we will go to the phoenix god.”
Keriya looked less than pleased, but Roxanne was happy to have a plan of action. The decision also put Max in good spirits, and he announced that he would spend the day gathering supplies.
Roxanne figured she deserved a better cloak for the next leg of the journey, so she volunteered to go with him. They fetched Emyr from the stable and hit the streets of Sairal to stock up.
Max filled Emyr’s saddlebags with long-lasting food like dried lakeweed, salted meat strips, and unleavened bread. He offered payment at every store they visited, but oftentimes the shopkeepers insisted he take the goods for free, sending him along with their well-wishes for the dragon.
Roxanne got a lovely coat and a sturdy pair of black knee-high boots. Pleased with her finds, she returned to the inn as the world grew dark, and ate dinner with her friends before going to bed. Nestled under her warm covers, she closed her eyes, looking forward to a decent night’s sleep for the first time since she’d left Irongarde.
But a decent night’s sleep was not to be. Three hours later, she awoke to the sound of a terrified scream.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“Our rights will be forgotten, and our wrongs will live forever.”
~ Nairon Torium, Third Age
Keriya retired early. She’d been given the best room the inn had to offer. It was large enough for Thorion to lie comfortably on the floor in front of the brazier.
As soon as she was asleep, nightmares seized her. First she rode a unicorn to the Fironem and spoke to Shivnath, who told her that not even the gods could help Thorion; then the bogspectre chased her, swearing a bloody vengeance on her for losing its treasure; then she was standing on top of a volcano and she jumped into its fiery depths, entering a place of darkness where Necrovar was waiting. As the heat enveloped her, he gazed into her eyes and told her that she had murdered her dragon.
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