by Lou Anders
“Please,” said Midnight. It wasn’t a word she used often, and Vision knew it.
“All right,” she said. “But you have to promise me you won’t go running off with any more unicorns.”
“I promise.” Midnight thought that she wasn’t exactly lying. After all, she wasn’t going to go running off with any more unicorns. She was just going to go running off in the morning with the unicorn she already had.
She had just about breathed a sigh of relief, when someone barked behind them—
“Unicorns? What unicorns?”
They had been overheard. And by the worst horse imaginable.
Old Sooty. The oldest of the night mares. She was so old her hair wasn’t black. Her hide was more of a dirty gray with spots. She didn’t have fire anymore. Just puffs of sooty smoke that appeared when she coughed. Which is why she was called Old Sooty.
Now, it’s important to remember that Midnight had once set Old Sooty’s tail on fire. That had been an accident. Mostly. Probably. Which is why Old Sooty hated Midnight and why she was always trying to get her kicked out of the herd.
“Unicorns?” said Midnight, and she blinked her eyes so innocently. “Who was talking about unicorns?”
“You were,” said Old Sooty.
“Me? No,” said Midnight. “I was talking about queasy thorns.”
“ ‘Queasy thorns’?” said Old Sooty skeptically.
“Yes, you know, those nasty thorns that make you feel all sick when they stick you. Vision saw some over there”—she gestured to the woods on her left—“and she was just warning me about them. Because she’s a good friend.” And now Midnight was speaking very slowly and deliberately. “And she wouldn’t. Want. To. Ever. See. Me. Get. Into. Any. Trouble.”
“Vision, is that true?” said Old Sooty.
Vision’s eyes darted between Midnight and Old Sooty.
“That’s right,” said Vision with a sigh. “We were talking about queasy thorns.” She gritted her teeth and spoke slowly and deliberately. “And I don’t. Want. To. See. Midnight. Get. Into. Any. More. Trouble.”
Snort, snorted Old Sooty. But this made her go cough, cough and puff black smoke.
“Midnight is—COUGH, COUGH—always trouble,” she said. “That should be—PUFF, PUFF—her name.”
Old Sooty trotted away in a cloud of smoke. Being fireless, she couldn’t partake in the Stomp, so she went to the edge of the outermost stone circle to get a good view.
“Thank you,” said Midnight.
“Old Sooty has taken the best spot,” said Vision. “But you can still stand over there.” She pointed to a spot on the opposite side of the glen. “It’s not too bad a view.”
“Oh, no,” said Midnight. “I won’t be watching tonight.”
“What do you mean you won’t be watching?” said Vision, starting to get worried again. “How can you not watch the Stomp?”
“Oh, I’ll watch,” said Midnight. “I just mean watching isn’t all I’m going to be doing.”
Vision’s eyes started to widen.
“Midnight, you know you’re not allowed—”
“Don’t worry, friend Vision,” said Midnight, drawing herself up tall. “For my Plan has gone according to plan. I predict this is going to be the best Stomp ever. This is going to be a night to remember.”
“But I am worried,” said Vision. “Your Plans don’t ever go as you expect.”
And, of course, Vision was right. But Midnight was right too. Because the Stomp was about to go horribly wrong. But it was certainly going to be a night to remember.
Are you curious? Well, so is a certain unicorn. And he’s hiding with a nervous puckle at the edge of the woods. And he’s eager to see what happens next. Don’t keep him waiting! Read on!
This was it. This was the Stomp. All the night mares—except of course for Old Sooty—had taken up positions between the stones of the outer ring. Sabledusk stood by herself before the central stone looking very imposing and leaderlike. But Midnight wasn’t with them yet. The Curse didn’t know she was planning on stomping. Sabledusk would have said no if Midnight had asked. Midnight planned to join in only once the Stomp started.
Yes, thought Midnight, this is definitely a Plan where it is better to ask forgiveness later than permission first.
As the moons moved into position, horses neighed and nickered. They shifted their hooves in nervous anticipation.
“Quiet!” yelled Sabledusk.
Everyone got very quiet and still.
Sabledusk turned her fiery red eyes to the moons.
“Let the Stomp begin,” she cried.
Then Sabledusk reared up on her back legs and let out a loud and glorious whinny.
When she came down, her hooves struck the ground in front of the big center stone with a loud smack.
Fire burst from her hooves, shooting to each of the horses in the circle. Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
They all rose up into the air and whinnied too.
And when each night mare came back down, their own hooves struck fire too.
Every night mare’s fire was a different color, from blazing red to vibrant orange to brilliant yellow. And then all the night mares began to stomp at once.
Stomp stompa stomp stompa stomp stomp stomp!
The fires raced along the ground and arced through the air.
Magic Motes appeared. Glowing golden lights, conjured out of thin air by the Stomp.
Not wispy wood winks, who were all about trying to lure you into the river. These were sparks of loose magic. They whirled around the night mares and fed the Silent Stones.
The once-faint runes carved into their surfaces glimmered in the night with reddish-goldish light.
There was a humming, like someone singing far away, or maybe right behind your ear but very softly.
The Silent Stones were singing again.
Midnight was so excited.
Because now was her chance.
She leapt, all four legs off the ground.
She landed in the space right between the inner and the outer rings.
The night mares were so surprised to see her that they all stopped stomping.
The Magic Motes started to fade.
The Silent Stones started to go silent again.
Sabledusk started to yell.
This would have all been very bad, but honestly, pretty much what was expected of Midnight.
But Midnight had an Absorbing Orb crammed in her ear. So she wasn’t afraid.
She picked one hoof up.
She brought it down.
And her wild fire wasn’t wild at all.
It shot from her hoof in a perfectly straight line, a great gleaming bolt of deep-red energy that raced right to the center stone.
Now the center stone glowed brighter than it had ever glowed before, its magical energy radiating to all the other stones.
The night mares were astonished.
Their mouths dropped open. Their ears twitched up and their tails lifted into the air.
They said, “Is that Midnight?” “Look at her go.” “I wish my fire were that strong.”
Midnight stomped, stomped, stomped.
And the night mares cheered and stomped with her.
The Magic Motes twirled around Midnight. They seemed to like her best.
“Oh, Midnight,” said Sabledusk. For the first time she didn’t sound disappointed when she said it. “You can finally control your fire. I’m so, so proud of you.”
And Midnight, hearing that, was happy.
So began a wild and woolly dance, with Midnight as the leader. She would weave a great and beautiful pattern of light. It looked like constellations drawn upon the ground. And the Silent Stones sang.
It was the best and brightest momen
t of Midnight’s entire life.
Everyone saw how amazing her fire was when it wasn’t wild.
And all the night mares were glad.
Because, you see, the Stomp wasn’t just for fun and pretty. The Stomp had an important purpose. It recharged the Silent Stones. Not with all the power they used to have in the days before the fairies came to the Glistening Isles. But with just enough power to drive the Wicked Fairies and Wicked Fairy Creatures out of the glen for another month.
It was the Stomp that kept the Curse safe through the dangerous nights of the Whisperwood. They could sleep at night without Wicked Fairies and Wicked Fairy Creatures tiptoeing in to hex and hassle them while they slept. So now you know why Midnight was never allowed to Stomp when her fire was wild and explode-y.
But tonight she was the hero, the one who would charge the Silent Stones up higher than they’d ever been before.
And it was all due to the wispy wood wink trapped in an Absorbing Orb and crammed in her ear.
Uh-oh. There was a flaw in Midnight’s great Plan.
A pretty big flaw.
Have you spotted it?
The flaw is this:
The Silent Stones, when they are working correctly, drive the Wicked Fairies and Fairy Creatures away.
A wispy wood wink is a Wicked Fairy.
See the problem now?
As the Stones grew in power, the wispy wood wink in Midnight’s ear became more uncomfortable.
At first, Midnight was too busy stomping and dancing and leaping about to notice. But inside her ear the wispy wood wink was twitching, jerking, thrashing….
That little wispy wood wink twisted so hard that it dislodged the Absorbing Orb. It flew right out of Midnight’s ear—
—sailing across the glen, a blue glowing projectile streaking through the sky.
Every night mare wondered what a wispy wood wink in an Absorbing Orb was doing in their Hidden Glen.
But they didn’t wonder long, because Midnight’s fire—which was all riled up from stomping—had lost its focus.
And now it was wild and explode-y again.
Ragged, jagged bolts of blazing energy curved and twisted, zigged and zagged. Where it struck the stones, explosions went off.
The Magic Motes twirled in the air like a swarm of angry bees.
The glowing runes carved in the Silent Stones flared hot once and then went dead. The Stones fell silent.
Then, with a great, loud bang, the center stone fell over.
The night was very quiet. All the night mares were quiet too.
Except for Sabledusk, who looked at Midnight and said, “Oh, Midnight. What have you done?”
Poor Midnight went from her dream come true to her worst nightmare.
“I—I—I—” she said.
But before she could think of what to say, Old Sooty leapt into the Whisperwood.
“Spy!” she roared. “Spy! Spy! Spy! I’ve caught a spy!”
Old Sooty drove a horse from the shelter of the trees into the moonslight.
There in front of her, looking very embarrassed, was a unicorn with a Scientific Mind.
Midnight knew that her worst nightmare had gotten even worse and was now her double worst nightmare.
The Curse had captured Curious.
“I—I—I can explain,” said Midnight. Although she probably couldn’t. In fact, she had no idea what sort of an explanation was going to get her out of this mess. She had led a unicorn right to the Curse’s Hidden Glen on the night of the Stomp, and knocked over the center stone. As messes went, this was the worst mess ever.
Curious had been shoved next to the big center stone where it had fallen over. He still had that silly U-shaped bit of metal ringed around his horn. The night mares surrounded him on all sides. They were stamping their burning hooves. They were looking at him with very angry looks. They were stamping their hooves and looking at Midnight that way too.
But it was Sabledusk’s look that hurt the most.
The leader of the Curse kept shaking her mane and twitching her ears as if she just couldn’t believe it.
She looked at Midnight with a deep, sad disappointment. The worst kind of disappointment, just after you had begun to hope that maybe someone wasn’t the complete mess you thought they were, only it turned out that you were wrong. They were an even worse mess than you knew.
“Daughter,” she said sorrowfully, “what have you done?”
Midnight couldn’t answer. She was just realizing that the herd wasn’t protected from the Fairy Creatures at night. And nights in the Whisperwood were bad. She had really, really done it this time.
But wait. Did Sabledusk just call Midnight “daughter”?
Why, yes she did.
And that is because Midnight was Sabledusk’s daughter.
You’ll remember that I said that night mares just started popping up after the Fairy Queen invited the unicorns to live on the Glistening Isles. No one knew how the night mares got there. No one brought them. But they appeared. Pop, pop, pop. And not even the night mares themselves knew where they came from.
But a night mare would just appear, usually fully grown, but sometimes young like Midnight. They were always on fire. All snorty and blazing. But they were confused. Disoriented. They didn’t know who they were or how they got to the Glistening Isles.
Oh, they had vague memories. Scary ones. Fuzzy memories of riding hard through human dreams. But nothing before that. Or maybe something so bad they mostly forgot what it was. But if they were on the north side of the island, the unicorns would drive them south, and they would find the Curse. And if they were on the south side of the island, then they’d find the Curse anyway. Or the Curse would find them.
Sabledusk found Midnight, burning hot in the woods at night in a big ring of fire surrounded by scorched trees. Midnight had been wild and angry, but she had also seemed sad and lost.
Something between them had felt so strong that Sabledusk had proclaimed Midnight her daughter. She had named her Midnight, because that is when she had appeared.
So now you know why Midnight hadn’t been kicked out of the Curse already for all the trouble she caused. But this trouble that was happening right now was the worst trouble ever in Midnight’s young life. Maybe even the mighty Sabledusk couldn’t save her this time.
“Midnight,” said Sabledusk. “What is the unicorn doing here?”
Midnight looked to Curious. The night mares were poking at him with burning hooves. He was trying very hard not to panic and absolutely not enjoying himself.
“Ah, well,” said Midnight, wondering what she could say that could make things better.
“He’s a spy!” coughed Old Sooty. “She’s in cahoots with him.”
“Nonsense,” said Midnight. “I’ve never gotten in a cahoot in my life! Anyway, Curious isn’t a spy.”
“You know his name?” said Sabledusk. And now maybe there were a few little yellow sparks starting to burn in her mane.
“If I could say a few words,” said Curious, straining his neck to see over the horses around him.
Sabledusk turned to the unicorn, and although they were very angry, his tormentors stepped back to give her a view.
“Thank you,” said Curious, trotting forward. “Greetings, oh Creature of Wickedness,” he called out. And that was absolutely the wrong thing to say. Flames were bursting from manes all around now. “There is no need to fear me. I do not come here intending harm. I have been led by the quest for scientific knowledge.”
“No one here fears you,” said Sabledusk. “But how does my daughter know your name?”
Behind her back, Midnight was shaking her head vigorously no, no, no. Unfortunately, Curious didn’t take the hint.
“Well, she saved my life,” he said. “It was only polite to tell he
r my name after that.”
“She saved you?”
“She saved him,” said Vision. She glanced at Midnight apologetically. “That unicorn was being drowned by some kelpies. Midnight dove into the river and rescued him.”
“You dove into the river?” said Sabledusk. “You rescued him? Why would you do that?”
“Because they wouldn’t do it for us,” said Midnight.
“Well, of course they wouldn’t,” said Sabledusk. “No unicorn would lift a hoof to help a night mare. So why would you do it for them?”
Midnight lifted her eyes to her mother.
“To prove we’re better than they are,” she said. “To show we aren’t the Creatures of Wickedness they think we are.”
“But what does that matter?” said Sabledusk. “Who cares what they think? Unicorns and night mares can never get along. A unicorn will never see itself as anything other than good and right and true, and they will always see us as their opposites.”
“I’m no one’s opposite,” said Midnight.
“Perhaps not, Daughter. But to prove that, you have brought a unicorn here. And you have destroyed the power of the Silent Stones. You have hurt us worse than any unicorn.”
“Stomp her!” shouted Old Sooty. “Stomp her and the unicorn!”
“Yes,” several other night mares cried. “Stomp them. Stomp them both.”
Sabledusk looked worried. Although she was the leader of the herd, she would have a hard time saving her daughter if the whole of the Curse was against it.
“Please,” said Midnight. “I didn’t mean any harm. And neither did Curious. He’s an idiot, but he didn’t mean any harm.”
“Hey,” said Curious. “I’m not an idiot. I have a Scientific Mind.”
“A what?” said Sabledusk.
“I’m a scientist,” said Curious. “I’m fascinated by your stones here. They were glowing green a moment ago. And their runes were reddish gold. There were motes of golden lights around them. And your fires—they burned from yellow to orange to red. Perhaps if I could understand them…”
“It’s magic,” said Sabledusk. “What’s to understand?”
