The Secret Of The Unicorn Queen - Moonspell Page 6

  * * *

  Sheila rode out under a crescent moon, feeling fairly pleased with herself She had almost gotten the spell of protection to work, and she had somehow managed to summon Darian. And since Morning Star was cooperating so beautifully, she was sure that she was meant to find him. But as she traveled far­ther south, her confidence waned. She was riding straight into a headwind that left her exhausted, and she was not used to riding alone. Worse, she knew she wasn't really alone—from the moment she and Morning Star set out, they had been followed by the wolves. Occasionally a blood-curdling yell rose above their howls, a sound Pelu had long ago identified as the call of a mountain lion.

  If the Tomai don't get us, the wild animals will, Sheila thought nervously. And if all that wasn't enough, she really had no idea of where the Tomai village was. She would have to de­pend on luck and Morning Star. Fortunately, the unicorn was running in smooth easy strides, as if she knew exactly where she was going.

  Sheila would have ridden straight through the day, but as the sun moved directly overhead, she found herself barely able to keep her balance in the saddle. The night's ride had taken its toll, and she knew she had no choice but to stop and catch a few hours of sleep. In a glade of birch trees just off the road, Sheila spread out her bedroll, asked Morning Star to keep watch, and instantly fell into a dreamless sleep.

  She awoke to find that the sun was still up. Morning Star stood beside her, whickering nervously. "What's wrong, girl?" Sheila asked groggily, trying to focus her eyes.

  The unicorn stamped one white hoof and tossed her head straight in front of her. It was almost as if she were pointing with her horn.

  Sheila sat up slowly, scanning the trees around her, trying to see into the shadows they cast. Careful to make no sudden movement that might give her away, she slipped on her sword­belt and reached for the backpack. Keeping low to the ground, she moved forward slowly, stalking whatever it was that might be stalking her. All around her the woods were silent and still.

  And then she saw it—a square of bright saffron. Crouched behind a silvery-white birch was a Tomai woman holding a large, curved knife. The woman, whose gaze was focused with frightening intensity on Morning Star, seemed oblivious of Sheila.

  Should I fight her? Sheila wondered. The woman had to be at least thirty, but her robes concealed her body, making it impossible for Sheila to gauge how strong she might be. It would be my sword against her knife. Sheila shut her eyes briefly at the thought of the possible outcome. Although she had grown to like sparring, real fights where real people got hurt were a very different matter. Even after months spent riding around with a bunch of warriors, she still thought violence was sickening. But now she had to stop this woman from at­tacking Morning Star; she had no choice . . . or did she?

  Briefly Sheila considered casting a spell of protection around the unicorn. Forget it, she told herself at once. Your command of magic isn't exactly dependable. But remembering what Micula had told her about the Tomai, she decided that there was another sort of "magic" that might work.

  "The Tomai have many superstitions," the sorceress had said. "Among them is the belief that if you capture their im­age, you capture their soul."

  Sheila slipped her Polaroid camera out of the backpack. Well, at least it's worth a try, she thought, before someone around here gets cut.

  As if in a trance, the woman advanced on the unicorn completely unaware of Sheila. And for reasons Sheila would never understand, Morning Star stood calmly, simply watching.

  There was a soft click as Sheila snapped the woman's pic­ture, then a little grinding sound while the camera processed the photograph. Seconds later Sheila pulled it from the cam­era, waving it impatiently as she waited for the light to fix the image. Hurry up, she whispered. The woman was only a yard or two from the unicorn.

  "Stop!" Sheila shouted. Running forward, she thrust the square of paper at the woman. "Look!" she cried.

  The woman froze.

  "Look," Sheila repeated. "This is you. I hold your soul in my hand," she went on, finding the words eerie even though she knew they were nonsense. "You are nothing now. Just a shell without a spirit."

  The woman looked hard at the picture and then even harder at Sheila, and for the first time Sheila knew exactly what terror looked like. With a wail that echoed through the woods, the woman turned and fled.

  Shaken, Sheila watched her run. She hadn't really ex­pected her trick to be that effective, and though she had saved Morning Star, somehow she felt guilty about it. She tucked the photograph into her pack and turned to the unicorn doubtfully. "Let's follow her," she said. "Maybe she'll lead us to the tribe.''

  It was nearly dark when Sheila and Morning Star reached the outskirts of a small village set beside the sea. Sheila could see thatch-roofed hilts, two rickety piers that had obviously been battered by the storms, and farther inland, bordered by a series of low stone walls, the fields. Ahead of her, the woman in the saffron robes hurriedly entered one of the huts. I hope you forget all about the picture, Sheila thought.

  Satisfied that she had found the Tomai village, Sheila de­cided she would have to find a safe place to keep Morning Star before setting off to look for Darian. Morning Star, as usual, had a definite opinion on which way they ought to be going. She turned sharply about and began galloping north along the beach.

  “Where are you headed?" Sheila demanded, knowing she wasn't about to get an answer.

  The unicorn picked up speed, racing toward an outcrop of rock in the distance. Moments later she came to a dramatic splashing halt in the surf directly in front of the rocks.

  "You could at least have picked someplace dry," Sheila grumbled as she slipped off the unicorn and into a good three feet of salt water. Obviously the tide was coming in. Sheila -made her way to the rocks, and saw that they formed an entrance to some sort of cave. "Is this what you wanted me to find?" she asked.

  Morning Star gave an affirmative neigh— and Sheila drew out the box of matches from her pack. Lighting one, she stepped into the dark cave. The match dropped from her hand as she realized it wasn't necessary. There was already a small fire built in the center of the room. Crouched against the far wall, his hands still bound, was the Tomai boy. And resting. a comfortable distance from the fire sat Darian, with a small, tawny lion cub curled up on his lap.

  7

  The Cave by the Sea

  "What am I doing here?" Sheila nearly shrieked. "I've been looking for you." She stared at him as if she couldn't believe he was in one piece. There was no gray vapor clinging to him nor any other sign of harm. In fact, the bandage he had worn since his sparring match with Cam was gone, re­vealing a neat crescent-shaped scar. "Are you all right?" she asked at last.

  "I'm fine," he said. "How are you?"

  "Ready to punch you out," she replied heatedly. "I saw a vision of you in some kind of trouble, and I've been worried sick ever since.”

  Darian shrugged and turned his attention to the purring cub in his lap. "Well, as you can see, there's nothing to worry about. How did you get here anyway?"

  "Morning Star brought me.”

  His head jerked up angrily. "Have you lost your mind?" he demanded. "How could you bring her so close to the Tomai? Do you want to see her throat slit?"

  "I told you. She brought me," Sheila retorted. "And don't you dare yell at me. You're the one who walked out on the riders.''

  Darian stood up, spilling the cub from his lap, his eyes blazing. He spoke slowly, emphasizing each word, "I left to protect the unicorns."

  "You left because you're too proud and stubborn to listen to Illyria.”

  "Really?" His cocky smile was back. "And I suppose she told you to come after me?"

  "Not exactly," Sheila admitted with a sigh. "I guess you're not the only stubborn one."

  "Come on. Darian grinned and held out a hand to her. Let's get Morning Star inside before someone spots her."

  Morning Star gave Darian an affectionate welcome, but she could not
be persuaded to enter the cave even though it had begun to rain, Twice Sheila and Darian coaxed her as far as the entrance only to have her rear up wildly.

  "It must be the cub," Darian said. "Or maybe it's Jeno."

  ''Jeno?''

  "The Tomai boy. He's tied up, but she may still sense him as danger. We'll have to leave her out and hope no one sees her." He gave Sheila a worried glance. "You really shouldn't stay here."

  Sheila let the comment pass, ducking back inside the cave. She couldn't discount her vision— Darian was in some sort of danger, and she wasn't about to leave him here on his own. On the other hand, she wasn't ready to get into an argument about it. To divert him she knelt down in front of the lion cub and held out a hand for it to sniff. The cub moved forward on stubby little legs and touched its pink nose to her palm. "Where'd you find him?" she asked, charmed.

  "This one?" Darian scooped up the cub and began to cud­dle it. "He was already here. I think this cave must have been his mother's lair and she left for some reason and never came back."

  "Now he thinks you're his mother," came a mischievous voice from the back of the cave.

  "Oh, shut up," said Darian with a grin.

  Sheila locked at the Tomai boy with surprise and then back at Darian. "You and your prisoner seem to be getting along pretty well."

  "He's all right," Darian said. "If I could trust him not to alert everyone in his village, I would let him go." He nodded toward the backpack. "You don't have any bandages in there, do you? I wrapped his wrists with some strips from my tunic, but he could probably use something cleaner."

  Sheila nodded and took out a roll of white gauze and a tube of antiseptic cream.

  Darian led her over to Jeno. "This is Sheila. She's going to look at your wrists," he explained.

  "I don't want her looking at my wrists," Jeno said. He was smaller than she remembered him, but no more approach­able.

  "It's not your choice," Darian said, untying the boy's hands. "Don't give her a hard time," he added sternly.

  "Is he always so bossy?" Jeno asked. He waited until Darian's back was turned and made a face.

  "Usually," Sheila answered, hiding a grin. Cautiously she knelt beside the boy and examined his wrists.

  "What are you doing?" he asked suspiciously.

  "Getting rid of these rags first," she said, loosening the torn strips of cloth. Despite Darian's crude first aid, Jeno seemed to be healing well. He watched, fascinated, as Sheila squeezed some yellow cream from the tube and rubbed it in where the skin still looked raw. "Does that hurt?" she asked.

  He shook his head stoically.

  "You wouldn't tell me if it did, would you?"

  Jeno gazed at her defiantly through light hazel eyes. Sheila gazed back, somehow knowing she couldn't afford to lose this staring contest. The boy gave in first with a wide, disarming smile and offered her his other wrist. Sheila took it and smiled back at him. This was definitely a weird way to begin a friendship.

  "Storage," Darian said, lifting a rock from the floor of the cave and pulling out what seemed to be a handful of blackish-green seaweed.

  Sheila rolled her eyes. "Don't tell me that's dinner."

  "No complaints," Darian ordered. "I wasn1t about to go out fishing and have the entire village see me.

  After a salty dinner of washed seaweed and some stale oat cakes that Sheila dug out of her backpack, Darian filled her in on what he had discovered. The Tomai had suffered terribly from the storms, with tides rising so high during the last full moon that the fields were flooded. Almost as bad, the wolves had been coming down from the mountains and raiding the herds of sheep and goats.

  "My father's horse was found with its stomach slashed open.” Jeno pointed to the cub, who was sleeping peacefully at Darian's ankles. "Mountain lions."

  "And you think the unicorns are to blame?" Sheila asked him.

  The boy stared sullenly at the ground. "Not blame. But to stop the floods of the next full moon, we must sacrifice to our gods at half moon. The priests have said that the gods want the unicorns' blood,"

  "What gods?" Sheila asked.

  "Forget it," Darian advised wearily. "I've already tried to talk him out of it." He gave Sheila a long dark look. "Now I'm going to try to talk some sense into you. You can't stay here with Morning Star. Sleep here tonight if you want, but tomorrow you're going back to Illyria."

  "Fine," said Sheila. "As long as you come with me."

  "I can't," Darian said quietly. "I have to stay until the night of the half moon."

  "Your plan is crazy," Jeno said contemptuously.

  "What plan?" Sheila demanded. "What are you talking about?"

  Neither boy answered. Jeno fit himself into a hollow of the cave wall and closed his eyes while Darian untied the leather thong he had used to hold back his hair and dangled it in front of the cub.

  "All right, don't tell me, you-" Sheila began, and caught herself before finishing the angry sentence. "Oh, Darian," she said miserably, "I didn't come here to fight with you, but that's about all we've been doing."

  He let the cub take the leather string from him. "I know. What do you say we take a walk, watch the waves crash or something?"

  She nodded and followed him from the cave. Outside, a light rain fell on the water, and a sheer white mist veiled the crescent moon. Sheila shivered in the chill air. It wasn't the same, and yet the scene reminded her of her vision.

  There was no sign of Morning Star, and with relief Sheila realized that she didn't hear the wolves. There was only the relentless sound of the waves hitting the shore. The tide was out, revealing a narrow strip of sand.

  Darian picked up a piece of driftwood and turned it idly in his hands. "You heard Jeno talk about the sacrifice at half moon, he began. "Well, I think I've figured out a way to use the ceremony and permanently convince the Tomai to leave the unicorns alone."

  Messing with a religious ceremony based on blood sacrifice did not strike Sheila as a good idea. "Why go to the trouble?" she asked. "You know Illyria and the others will outride them."

  "Only if they're lucky," Darian said. "The Tomai don't give up. There's a group of them out there now trying to cut the riders off at the Caolin River. And look at Jeno—he's barely thirteen, and half the time he wants to be my friend, but he would murder Morning Star in a minute if he got close enough. I'll release him after the ceremony; I can't risk it before," He put an arm around Sheila and drew her close. “You're shivering."

  She leaned against him, feeling warm and protected in spite of the rain. Being around Darian was totally confusing. One minute she was ready to strangle him, and the next she just wanted to stay in his arms forever Stop thinking that way, she scolded herself. You're here for a reason. "Darian," she tried again, "you've got to believe me about this. Micula was teaching me to do a summoning. And I summoned your im­age. You were all alone, on the shore here, and there was some sort of danger all around you. Just because nothing's happened yet doesn't mean it won't, Please come back with me.”

  "I can't do that." He turned her around so that they faced each other. "If it's any comfort, I do believe you. Ever since we found this cave I've felt . . . something. I don't know what it is, but I know it means us harm. That's why you've got to leave."

  "Not without you," Sheila vowed.

  Darian tilted her chin up and gave her the gentlest of kisses. "We'll discuss it in the morning."

  But it was Morning Star who ultimately made the deci­sion, Sheila had ventured out into the foggy morning to call the unicorn, wondering how to do it loud enough to be heard over the breakers without attracting the villagers' attention. Morning Star came at once, bounding out of the treeline above the cave. "Did you find a safe place to sleep?" Sheila asked and was answered with an earnest series of whickers.

  Darian stepped out of the cave, carrying Sheila's gear. "Here," he said, holding out her saddle. "No arguments now."

  Sheila glared at him and folded her arms across her chest. "You saddle her if y
ou're so set on getting rid of me.”

  She couldn't help giggling as she watched Darian repeatedly try to saddle Morning Star, and the unicorn nimbly dance out of reach at each attempt. "I don't think she wants to go," Sheila observed.

  "Very funny," Darian chided the unicorn. "You're as im­possible as your rider." He turned to Sheila with a scowl and then headed back into the cave.

  "You were terrific" Sheila said, reaching out to give the mare a well deserved hug. But the moment she touched her, the unicorn bolted. "Morning Star!" Sheila couldn't keep the hurt out of her voice. "What's wrong?"

  The unicorn gave a high-pitched whinny in reply and again darted out of the way when Sheila got too close. Refusing to be put off, Sheila spent the better part of the next hour trying to approach the unicorn. Finally she had to admit defeat. It was not a good sign—with full moon still eight days away, Morning Star was already unmanageable.

  At last Sheila returned to the cave, where she found Darian honing the edge of his sword and trying to keep the curious lion cub away

  "He's awfully cute," she said, picking up the cub and set­tling him in her lap. He licked her hand with a rough pink tongue and purred. It was impossible to believe that the cud­dly little animal would one day be a full-grown mountain lion, capable of taking down a horse.

  "Don't get too attached," Darian growled at her. "You're riding out of here as soon as that unicorn of yours stops play­ing games."

  Sheila chose not to answer but winked at Jeno, saying, "He's getting bossier by the day."

  Darian smiled in spite of himself. "You're probably right. But I can't help it this time."

  "Neither can I," Sheila said. The cub slipped out of her lap and began nosing at Jeno. "I mean about riding out. I couldn't leave if I wanted to. Morning Star won't let me near her."

  Darian slid the whetstone into a small leather pouch that hung from his belt and gave Sheila a curious look, "Really?"