In Other Lands

by Sarah Rees Brennan

  Elliot sulked. He would keep still since Luke was in a tizzy, but if Luke thought that he could persuade Elliot to stay put when he got a chance to see mermaids rather than harpies, Luke had another think coming.

  There was a rustle in the grass. Luke’s grip on Elliot’s nape tightened, but after a moment Elliot struggled free in a burst of relief and pleasure: it was Serene, dropped lightly from a branch. She moved, crouching, toward them. There was something small and dark folded in her hand.

  “I thought this might come in useful,” she whispered, and fitted a black woolen cap over Elliot’s head. Elliot smiled, not surprised by her brilliance but by her thoughtfulness, and she smiled back.

  “Thanks, blossom,” he whispered, and though she looked puzzled to be called that she leaned toward him as he leaned toward her, for a brief sweet kiss in the crushed grass.

  “Serene!” hissed Luke, whose eyes were determinedly fixed on the sky. “Do you see?”

  Elliot squinted. He could see nothing except for fluffy non-menacing clouds. No . . . maybe something? Like a fleck on his glasses, if he wore glasses. Or like his imagination running wild.

  “Two of them,” Serene whispered back. “Scouts. The scouts go in pairs. If we get them, they can’t report back. We can’t have anyone knowing that we’re coming.”

  Luke and Serene rose to their feet in one smooth matching movement, bows at the ready. Their bowstrings were taut, arms held at the exact same angle. They moved like two parts of a killing machine.

  “They’ll never make the shot,” Dale whispered. “Not both of them. I can’t even see . . .”

  They all saw then, the meeting of the scouts in the sky, a rush of wings that blotted out the sun for a moment, and at that very instant Luke and Serene took their shots.

  The harpies tumbled from the sky, two dark marks growing larger and larger against the clouds as they streaked toward the earth. Elliot only ever saw them as dim, falling shapes: he was sorry for that.

  “Ha!” said Elliot to Dale. “That was my girlfriend . . . killing a sentient creature. But for good reason and showing very praiseworthy athletic skill!”

  The commander rose and gestured to them all to do likewise.

  “Good eyes, Cadet Sunborn,” she said. “Good shooting, both of you. We cannot risk both harpies and bandits with a force this size. We will do one more sweep of the forest and return home. Chaos-of-Battle, back in the trees. Sunborn, I want you to take four men and pack up the camp as quickly and quietly as you can.”

  “Commander!” said Luke. “What about—”

  “I don’t want to be protected by incompetents!” Elliot exclaimed, and looked around at the faces of the assembled troop. “Uh, no offence, everybody.”

  “I do not want to see another breach of discipline from any of you!” the commander thundered. “Cadet Schafer, you will stay by my side at all times. Go!”

  Luke went. Serene went. Elliot fell in unhappily with the commander.

  “Don’t be scared,” said Dale from behind him, marching in step. “Harpies are awful creatures, but there won’t be any more. And we can protect you, just as well as Luke. Well, maybe not quite as well as Luke, that was an amazing shot—”

  “Serene’s shot was amazing too,” Elliot said grumpily.

  “Um, ah, sure,” Dale agreed. “The point is, I’m right behind you, and I have reflexes like a ferret!”

  “Go to the back of the squad, Cadet Wavechaser,” Commander Woodsinger said, with infinite weariness.

  “I’m going to be slightly farther behind you,” said Dale. “But not to worry!”

  Elliot regarded the softly rustling wood with suspicion as they walked and walked. The swaying leaves and the spring flowers had hidden harpies. He fully expected bandits next.

  When he saw something shining among the leaves, he froze, expecting it to be a weapon.

  A hush fell on their group as they realized that it was something entirely different.

  There in the clearing up ahead was a unicorn.

  It had a shape similar to a horse’s, but it was closer to the toy horse of a seven-year-old’s most fevered imagination than it was to any real animal. Its long, graceful lines seemed chased in silver, its mane and tail rippling in bright rivers and total defiance of gravity, and its horn was pearl. It turned and observed them with one tranquil dark eye, a pool that beckoned as well as shimmered, and Elliot took a step forward.

  “Cadet Schafer,” said Commander Woodsinger in a low, serious voice. “Be careful. Only people who are eligible may approach the unicorn.”

  “Uh, because we think an animal is obsessed with a ridiculous social construct of purity based on who’s been touched where with what, as if people’s moral worth depends on what basically amounts to a game of Clue?” Elliot said. “Sure it is. Give me a break.”

  He took another step. The unicorn charged.

  Elliot ran, and Commander Woodsinger ran with him. Their troop scattered madly in every direction. Elliot ran for another tree, feeling the unicorn’s hot breath on his back. He grabbed at a low-hanging branch, pulled himself up, and then leaned down and looped his arm around Commander Woodsinger’s waist, lifting her off her feet.

  If she hadn’t got hold of the branch and helped haul herself up, he might have dropped her on the creature. Accidentally impaling your commander on a unicorn was bound to lead to expulsion.

  “Well lifted, Cadet,” said the commander in a tone of faint surprise.

  “Thanks,” said Elliot. “Mean bullies make me exercise.”

  He looked down at the unicorn. He saw, suddenly, that it wasn’t as lovely as he had thought at first. Its shiny horn was too sharp, and its eyes were red with the light of murder. It was the Venus flytrap of pretty ponies.

  “I think your censorious attitude is absurd,” Elliot told it. “And frankly, it’s creepy to be obsessed with other people’s sex lives.”

  The unicorn lowered its head, charged, and rammed the tree. Its horn plunged into the bark and was then withdrawn. The leaves all shook as if they were in a storm, and the trunk shuddered as if it had been struck by lightning.

  “Cadet Schafer! Kindly stop antagonising the unicorn!”

  “Don’t worry!” said Serene from the trees. “All of these young blushing men are unmarried, so I am certain a great many of them are pure!”

  There was a long silence. Embarrassment reigned among the trees.

  “How about you, Dale?” Elliot asked, desperate.

  “Um—afraid I can’t help you,” Dale muttered. “I met this guy, Adam Sunborn, when we were sent to aid the patrol on the Northern border . . .”

  “Adam Sunborn!” Elliot exclaimed. “How could you, Dale? He is the worst!”

  “He’s not the worst! He’s a Sunborn!” Dale exclaimed, shocked in return. “And it’s not—it’s not as if there’s a huge amount of choice in the Border guard, if you like guys.”

  Elliot shook his head sadly, making the leaves rustle around him. “You can do so much better.”

  “Uh—thanks, Elliot!” Dale sounded gratified. After a pause, he ventured: “Commander, are you not . . . eligi—”

  “I am forty-eight years old!” snapped Commander Woodsinger. “Ladies have needs, Cadet.”

  “Not everybody wants to indulge in carnal passions at all,” said Serene. “Take the sisters of the greenwood, who consider themselves married to the trees. Obviously there are no people dedicated to chastity and guarding the beautiful flower of their manhood in this company, however.”

  Elliot breathed out hard through his nose. He looked up at the rippling green canopy of the trees, and down at the enraged beast below. It pawed the ground, ripping out chunks of earth beneath its cloven hoof, and the sunlight shining through the trees lent a disturbing glitter to the point of its horn. Elliot looked hastily away.

  “I didn’t want it to come to this,” he informed the leaves. “But could somebody fetch Luke?”

  “Cadet Schafer, I’m fairly certain t
hat’s not going to help,” said Commander Woodsinger. “I mean this in the most impersonal and professional way possible, but have you seen Luke Sunborn?”

  “Yes,” Elliot said irritably. “Believe me, I don’t get it either. He doesn’t want to do the human equivalent of dedicating himself to the trees and never getting some, because he told me he had a crush on Dale Wavechaser. I have a theory he’s repressed as an act of rebellion against his family. I also have this scheme to shut him and Dale up in a cupboard. I admit, it’s not a terribly sophisticated scheme. It needs refining.”

  The unicorn headbutted the tree even more vehemently. Everyone was a critic.

  The commander took a deep breath. “Are you quite sure about Luke Sunborn’s current state of virtue?”

  “Quite sure.”

  The commander raised her voice. “Could the cadet farthest away from the unicorn descend and request Cadet Sunborn to make his way to this section of the woods!”

  The unicorn charged once more. From the heart of the tree came an alarming cracking sound.

  “Extremely quickly,” the commander added.

  It felt like a long time until Luke arrived, even though he came running and out of breath, and Elliot had more reason than anybody to know how fast Luke was.

  Luke did not immediately dart to the rescue, though. Instead, when he saw the unicorn, he stopped moving altogether.

  “Ah, Cadet Sunborn,” said Commander Woodsinger, with amazing aplomb for a woman stuck up a tree. “Thank you for your promptness. Cadet Schafer informed me that you might be possessed of the necessary qualities to deal with this situation.”

  “Did he,” Luke said, after a long, dark pause in which apparently all the blood in his body rushed to his ears. They were practically purple.

  Elliot grinned and gave him a thumbs-up. The horror on Luke’s face only deepened.

  “If you would, Cadet,” said the commander.

  Luke advanced on the unicorn. He took his time about it. Elliot thought it was frankly reprehensible that he was dragging his feet when there were lives at stake.

  “Chop chop,” he called out.

  “Shut up,” Luke ordered.

  He edged closer to the unicorn. The unicorn had stopped ramming the tree. The animal was now cropping the grass in what Elliot found to be rather a coy manner. Its shining flanks heaved with another breath, like the movement of living pearl. Luke took one last step, and then rested his hand against the unicorn’s softly glowing side.

  The unicorn did not turn and make Luke an instant victim of horn-based savagery. Elliot let out a breath in unison with Commander Woodsinger. Even the trees seemed to sigh relief.

  The unicorn turned, and Elliot sucked his breath back in, but the unicorn seemed to wish only to rest its chin against Luke’s shoulder.

  “Oooh, it likes you,” Elliot said.

  “Shut up now and shut up forever,” said Luke.

  “Cuddling with the unicorn is not a productive way to spend your time,” Commander Woodsinger observed, while Elliot snickered and Luke looked cruelly betrayed by the universe at large. “Can you manage to lead the unicorn away?”

  “I can try,” Luke said in the hollow tones of one who had nothing but his duty left. He tugged at the unicorn’s mane. The unicorn lipped softly at his cheek. Elliot worried about an accidental affectionate skull impaling. “It’s not working,” Luke said, his voice taking on an edge of panic.

  “I know what to do!” Elliot exclaimed. “In books, the virtuous maiden plucks a single golden hair from her head and leads the unicorn as if on a leash.”

  Luke gave him a look of loathing, and tugged at a handful of his own golden but admittedly short hair. “Thanks for the suggestion.”

  “I’m just trying to be helpful, loser,” Elliot snapped.

  “Try harder!” Luke snapped back.

  “Perhaps some other article belonging to you?” Serene called out from the leaves. “Loath though I am to suggest you compromise your modesty in any way by disrobing . . .”

  Elliot kept thinking that there must be a limit to how scandalized Luke could seem about this situation, on a scale from slight-social-faux-pas to nudist-at-the-vicar’s-tea-party. Currently he was at Victorian-aunt-time-traveled-to-a-strip-club.

  Luke pulled off the blue jumper his dad had knitted for him at Christmas. It was immediately clear to everyone that it had been almost two years of continuous physical exercise since the time Luke used to go swimming in the lake and get swarmed by girls.

  There was a thump and a flutter of falling leaves, like a small localized storm of greenery. Dale Wavechaser had fallen out of his tree.

  Elliot began to laugh so hard he was afraid he was going to fall out of the tree himself. He stopped laughing when the unicorn gave an equine snarl and tried to turn in Dale’s direction.

  “Nonono,” said Luke, hastily looping his jumper around the unicorn’s pale gleaming neck and tying the blue woolen sleeves tight. “Don’t do that. Take deep breaths. Uh, find your center. Nice horsie.”

  “Wow, he’s trying to use my yoga routine on a unicorn,” Elliot remarked.

  “Come on, please let this be over, nice horsie,” muttered Luke, and the unicorn began to trot obligingly to keep up with Luke’s fast pace, through the trees and away.

  “Well, no harm done except the upholding of harmful moral values by a cranky equine,” said Elliot, and slid gratefully from his branch to the ground.

  “Cadet Schafer, get back in the tr—” the commander began furiously, but her voice was obscured by the thunder of hooves and the sound of those hooves ripping turf as the unicorn charged back.

  The creature was a blur of white and silver, the sound it made a scream: Luke’s scream back was almost birdlike. Elliot scrabbled for a branch, but there was none in reach.

  Luke was a blur, faster than the unicorn. He had to vault over the animal: he jumped between them.

  There was a horrible moment when Elliot slipped out from between Luke and the tree and Elliot saw blood on Luke’s shoulder.

  “Are you okay?” he asked in stark terror. Even the unicorn was still, as if in confusion.

  Luke’s eyes had been shut, but they opened. “Yes,” he said in a small, tight voice. “Get back in the tree.”

  The murderous beast danced back an uncertain step, and Elliot saw that what Luke had said was true. The unicorn had stopped its lunge just in time. It was only a graze.

  Elliot got back in the tree. They all stayed up in the tree for a long time after Luke led the unicorn away by the rags of his jumper, probably longer than they needed to. The only person who spoke was Serene, who asked Elliot quietly if he was all right.

  “He’s perfectly well, not that he deserves to be,” snapped the commander before Elliot could reply. “Now be quiet.”

  Luke and his small squad came back, Luke wearing a spare war cadet’s uniform top and keeping his head down. Everyone descended from the trees.

  “Walk with me, Cadet Schafer,” said the commander, and they walked at the front of the troop.

  Elliot walked with his eyes on the horizon, watching for the Border camp. The commander spoke to him as they marched, and her words fell like blows. He concentrated on walking and not stumbling.

  “You were not supposed to be on this expedition,” said the commander. “That is not because I blindly follow military protocol, but because it was necessary that everyone on this trip have military training and be able to defend themselves. Are you able to defend yourself?”

  “No,” said Elliot, and when the commander gave him an inquiring look he spoke louder. “No.”

  “That means that other people have to put their lives at risk to defend you,” the commander said. “That is why you are forbidden to come on these missions, no matter how clever you think you are or how much you believe the rules should not apply to you. For the sake of other people’s lives. Do you understand now, or does someone have to actually die?”

  “I understand,” Elliot
said through his teeth. He thought he might be sick.

  “And you will never, ever come on another military foray without my express permission?”

  “I won’t,” said Elliot. His mouth was dry. “I swear.”

  As soon as they arrived back at the Border camp, the commander dismissed Elliot, and he could at last go find Luke and Serene.

  They had not even gone to their cabins yet, but were standing sorting through the weapons from their packs and putting the dull ones aside. They looked up as he approached. Luke’s expression was not particularly pleasant. Elliot had been thinking of what he should say, how he could apologize or thank him, but a brainwave occurred to him: something good had happened today, and reminding Luke of that would surely cheer him up.

  “So Dale Wavechaser fell out of a tree,” said Elliot, making significant gestures with his eyebrows alone.

  Luke appeared unimpressed. “I suppose you think people falling out of trees and getting hurt is funny too.”

  “No,” said Elliot. “Well, yes, in this specific instance, because of reasons. Him falling out of a tree is great for you.”

  “Elliot, why would I want people to fall out of trees?”

  Elliot abandoned this clearly unproductive line of reasoning.

  “You saved him from a unicorn,” Elliot urged. “I mean, in that you saved us all. As lines go, that one’s bound to be a winner. It has novelty on its side! Go talk to him!”

  Luke turned a baleful gaze upon him. “I have never been so embarrassed in my whole life,” he said. “And it’s your fault. I am going to bed.”

  “Luke,” Serene said, “you have absolutely nothing to be embarrassed about. Rather, you should feel proud that despite the urgings of your manly nature you have kept your virtue intact!”