Guardians of the Wild Unicorns

by Lindsay Littleson

  22

  Lewis

  Despite the night’s chill, Lewis felt clammy, his neck sticky with sweat, muscles knotted. Ailsa had her gun with her: at any moment, bullets could start whizzing past their heads.

  A murder of crows rose from their treetop nests into the air, cawing. Lewis and Rhona ran through the woods at the back of the house, pushing their way through a tangle of branches, slithering on damp leaf mould.

  Then Rhona stopped dead and leaned against an ivy-covered wall, panting for breath. “Lewis, what if Ailsa kills her?”

  Lewis shivered. “The unicorn went crazy, didn’t she? It was terrifying.”

  “She didn’t go crazy. She was only trying to protect herself and her baby.” Rhona clutched at his arm. “Or maybe she was trying to distract Ailsa, and give us a chance to get away. How can we help her?”

  “We could tell the police,” he said, but there was doubt in his voice.

  “We’d have to talk them into checking out the Laird’s grounds,” said Rhona. “And I don’t fancy our chances of that, do you? We’ve no chance against that woman. She’s sneaky as a snake.”

  “She is, isn’t she?” Lewis switched on his torch. The beam caught a door in the wall just as it swung silently open. He jumped in fright, convinced Ailsa had ambushed them, but nobody leapt through the door. A frog croaked, and when he peered through the doorway, he could see stars reflected in a lily pond.

  “It’s the walled garden,” he whispered. “We’ll be safe in there.”

  Rhona didn’t argue. She followed him inside and quietly they shut the door.

  Exhausted, they flopped down on a stone bench, breathed in the cool air and the heavy scent of roses, feeling the garden’s dreamlike stillness. The moon illuminated the garden with its ghost-pale light, silvering the gravel paths, making the white flowers glow. The sculptures stood like sentinels, and the only sounds were the trickle of water from a fountain and the frog’s low croak. Lewis didn’t quite understand why this garden felt so safe.

  A shaft of moonlight glinted on the little unicorn statue in the corner of the garden and cast a shadow on the grass.

  “The unicorn statue must be of Dubhar, the unicorn in Alex’s story,” breathed Rhona. “It has to be! His name means dark shadow.”

  She walked slowly over, and started rubbing at the plaque with her jacket sleeve.

  Lewis shook his head. “Even if you find the inscription, it’s not light enough to read.”

  “Wrong again, pal. Come and look.”

  He blinked in astonishment, struggling to believe what he was seeing. Each word on the plaque shimmered like mercury. Voice shaking, Lewis read the inscription aloud.

  Whindfall’s calling Sneachda home

  The forest’s where she needs to be

  But know she cannot go alone

  The Guardians must set her free.

  “I guess Sneachda is the mare’s name,” he said. “But who the heck are the Guardians?”

  Rhona snorted, as if he’d said something even more stupid than usual. “Who rescued the unicorns from the stockade? Who came here to try and save Sneachda? We did, didn’t we? We must be the Guardians. But we’re running away. We’re a big fail.”

  As Lewis stared at the inscription, the letters melted into a silvery blob, which faded to grey.

  “Let’s do it.” His voice sounded over-loud.

  “Do what?”

  “We need go and get the unicorn and take her back to Whindfall Forest. And we need to do it tonight. By tomorrow night, we’ll be back in Glasgow. It’ll be too late to save her and the baby.”

  Rhona’s eyes shone like stars. “OK. How?”

  “Don’t ask me for the details. I haven’t worked those out yet. But I’m going to do it. Are you with me?”

  “Well, the inscription said Guardians, plural, didn’t it?”

  “You’re right though. We’re hopeless Guardians. We left Ailsa with Sneachda.”

  Rhona shivered. “If Sneachda’s dead,” she whispered, “the baby’s dead too.”

  It was a terrible, unbearable thought.

  “She isn’t dead. I know she’s not.”

  Lewis was gritty-eyed with exhaustion. But for some reason he felt more confident than he had earlier.

  As they left the walled garden, clouds scudded across the moon and a smirry rain began to fall, drizzling against their jackets and running in thin rivulets down their faces. Creeping through the woodland, jumping at every cracking twig, the confidence Lewis had felt began to ebb away and was replaced by a gnawing ache. What if they found another dead unicorn? How could he face that? The first had been terrible enough.

  As they climbed the garden gate and crept over to the shed, he could see that the door was shut, fastened by another padlock. Ailsa was gone.

  Rhona gave the chain a sharp tug. “We can’t get in unless we steal the key.”

  Lewis groaned. “Trespassing, housebreaking, unicorn theft… How many years in jail do you think we’ll get?”

  “They’ll have to catch us first, won’t they? But maybe we don’t need to housebreak… Switch on your torch for a sec.”

  The beam swept the ground flickering over the stack of hay bales, a pitchfork, the rake, a bucket.

  Rhona pointed a finger. “Bet the key’s under that bucket.”

  She pushed it over. In the torchlight, a key ring glinted on the grass. Rhona lifted it and jingled the keys in the air, grinning triumphantly.

  “How did you know that would be there?” Lewis asked.

  She shrugged. “It’s what people do, Lewis. I hide my door key under the mat. Don’t tell anyone, especially not Kyle. His big brother’s a thieving git.”

  She picked up the keyring to unfasten the padlock.

  23

  Rhona

  Hardly daring to breathe, Rhona leant over the half door and looked into the shed. The unicorn was sprawled on the straw, but her head was upright, her spiralled horn still intact. She was watching them, eyes wary, but alive and well, the crushed chain lying in pieces at her hooves. Tears of relief slid down Rhona’s cheeks.

  She’s no’ deid. We’re in time.

  Cautiously, Rhona unlatched the bottom door and stepped inside. She reached out a tentative hand and stroked the unicorn’s long mane, while Lewis stayed at the doorway.

  “What now?” he asked. “We can’t just let her loose, Rhona. She’s not with the rest of the herd. What if she gets lost on the moor?”

  The unicorn got to her feet. Rhona put a hand gently on her muzzle. The mare bowed her head and went very still. They stood like that for a moment, and then Rhona turned to Lewis.

  “I’m sure she wants us to set her free.”

  “How do you know that? Since when have you learned to speak unicorn?”

  Rhona shrugged. “I can just sense it. You need to go with her. She might need help on the way. Her baby will be born soon.”

  “I’m not a vet! What help can I be?”

  Rhona gave him her ‘stop being a numpty’ glare.

  “But I’ve no idea how to get to Whindfall Forest!” he protested. “It’s a crazy plan.”

  “No, it isn’t. It’s sensible. And she knows the way home, she’s no’ daft.”

  “I’m not leaving you here. You have to come too.”

  “It’s no’ fair to ask her to carry two people. I’m going to chap at the door of that house and let the Laird know exactly what his precious niece is up to.”

  Lewis shook his head vehemently. “No way. Far too dangerous. I’m not going without you. End of.”

  Rhona could tell that his protests about how he couldn’t leave her behind weren’t him being brave. She knew he was afraid to do this on his own.

  “Lewis, you can do this. I’m scared too. But we’ve come all this way to rescue the unicorn. We can’t back out now.”

  The unicorn seemed to lose patience with them. She leant forward and nudged Lewis with her long muzzle. Rhona grinned.

  “
You’d better do what she wants. She might stab you.”

  He nodded, took a deep, gulping breath, opened the bucket, upended it and used it to help him scramble onto the unicorn’s broad back. Leaning down, he put his hand out to Rhona. “I can do this alone. But I’d rather you were with me.”

  Rhona shook her head. “Don’t you know how lucky you are? How many people in history have ridden on a unicorn? This could be an actual first.”

  He gave her a weak smile. “What should I say? ‘Giddy up’ seems totally disrespectful.”

  “Just ask nicely. I’ll go and unlock the garden gate. I think this other key should do the trick.” She held up the key ring and grinned.

  Lewis leaned forward, close to the unicorn’s left ear, “Excuse me, ma’am, but it’s time to go.”

  The unicorn tossed her head so that her mane rippled like silk. She blew through her nostrils and set off into the night, hooves high.

  24

  Lewis

  As soon as the unicorn began to move, Lewis panicked, overwhelmed by dizziness. The unicorn was taller than any horse he’d ever ridden, though, to be honest, he’d only ridden one in his entire life, on a pony trek on Ardrossan Beach when he was six.

  He was a long, long way from the ground. If he fell, he’d be crushed by her hooves, he’d break his neck, he’d…

  The unicorn broke into a trot and Lewis gave up on thought. He focused on listening to the beat of her hooves on the ground while gripping her mane so tightly his fingertips whitened. She started to move across the garden towards Rhona, who’d run to the gate and was fiddling with the padlock. Lewis moaned, consumed by fear, as the gate swung open. Rhona raced off, swallowed up by the darkness as she headed towards the big house.

  The unicorn moved through the garden gate and slowed down, picking her way delicately through the thick undergrowth. Lewis leaned forward, afraid he’d be decapitated by an overhanging branch or garrotted by trailing vines. A strange sense of calm settled over him. The unicorn knew exactly what she was doing. All he had to do was hold tight.

  “You’re doing brilliantly,” he whispered. “You can do this.”

  The unicorn twitched her ears, as if she liked the sound of his voice.

  He remembered that bleak night, lost on the moor, when the stallion had seemed to be his enemy. He’d been so convinced in those terrible, panicked moments that it had been coming straight for him, but now he knew for certain he hadn’t been the target of the unicorn’s rage. He thought of the odd circular dent in the side of the Land Rover. Ailsa must have been somewhere near him that night. He hoped she’d got the fright of her life when the unicorn’s horn smacked against the car door.

  Lewis shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

  He was starting to get worried about the time the unicorn was taking, negotiating the woodland. But as she broke from the cover of the trees, he felt a twinge of excitement. They were on their way to freedom, he and Sneachda. The unicorn’s hooves clattered as she broke into a trot. Behind them, raindrops rippled the black waters of the loch. Soon they’d be out on the moor, heading for the forest. Soon the unicorn would be free again. They were almost at the main gates… the padlocked gates.

  He’d forgotten… he’d forgotten that Ailsa had locked the main gates. They had no key for those.

  Panic gripped Lewis’s chest, tightened his throat. Without any warning, the unicorn stopped dead and he lunged forward. He’d have gone head first if he hadn’t been grasping Sneachda’s mane so tightly.

  Legs splayed, the unicorn leant right back. Her ears swivelled back and forth; her eyes darted. Lewis felt the trembling in her body, could sense her fear. As he stared, a shadowy figure stepped out from behind a bush and activated a security light.

  “Ailsa,” he breathed.

  Ailsa took another step forward, into the pool of bright light. The shotgun was at her shoulder, aimed right at the unicorn’s head. Her features were twisted with rage.

  “You’re trespassing on private property. Get down. Now!” There was an ominous click as she cocked the gun. “Right now, or I’ll have to shoot you. Please don’t think I won’t. Your silly friend tried to stop me getting in my car and I dealt with her. This is a huge estate. There’s a deep loch, a stone quarry, peat bogs. Your bodies will never be found. Your parents will think you’ve died on the moor. Your teachers will be blamed for not keeping a better eye on you. It won’t be news for long.”

  Lewis shook his head, trying to ignore the hammering in his heart. He didn’t doubt she was capable of murder. But would she really take the risk of killing them here, when the Laird was nearby?

  “I don’t believe you. You wouldn’t dare. The Laird would know what you’ve done. Let us past. Sneachda, go!”

  The ground seemed to topple away. Sneachda was rising up onto her hind legs, sharp hooves flailing. Eyes wide with terror, Ailsa leapt back and the gun went off, loud as thunder.

  Sneachda veered away from the gates and cantered past the oak tree he and Rhona had climbed to get in. The unicorn reached a crumbling section of wall and her huge hooves struck against it: once, twice, three times. Part of the stonework collapsed, toppled on to the grass verge beyond. Sneachda jumped the remains of the wall, clumsy because of her bulk. Her hooves clashed against the stonework, sending sparks flying into the night sky.

  But she’d done it. They were over the wall.

  Lewis clung on, knuckles white, waiting for a bullet in his back. His throat was raw and the blood was pounding in his head. He tried to think.

  Should I fling myself off, get back over the wall and find out what’s happened to Rhona? Or would I be better running to the Centre for help? If I go back, Ailsa’s there. How can I help Rhona if she shoots me too? What would Rhona want?

  The unicorn’s heavy hooves clattered on the tarmac. She galloped onto the main road, straight along the white line, oblivious to any road rules or possible traffic. Lewis tried to steady his breathing, as he had when he was stuck in the bog. That incident seemed trivial now, a fuss about nothing. He’d been ankle-deep; now he was up to his neck in trouble.

  Think… If I jump off, the chances are I’ll break a leg. I’ll be no use to Rhona whatsoever, crawling along the main road in the dark. If I only had my phone I could dial 999. Cos if Rhona’s lying injured, Ailsa will let her bleed to death, no question.

  What if Rhona’s already dead?

  Without warning, the unicorn swerved to the right, across the road and onto the moor. Lewis’s body was flung sideways and he grabbed her mane, dragging himself upright. As he struggled, a thought flickered through his brain. He didn’t know if it was his or if he was hearing someone else’s voice.

  This mustn’t be for nothing.

  Squeezing his eyes shut, he held on.

  He felt he’d been awake all night, but when he checked his watch the sickly green numbers showed 2:45. Whindfall was about five miles from the Outdoor Centre. Langcroft was two miles from the Centre. He tried to work out the maths, but numbers weren’t his strong point at the best of times. According to the second most-read book on his shelf, The Wonderful World of Animals, a galloping horse travels at forty kilometres an hour. That meant… he didn’t have a clue what it meant. Exhaustion and cold were creeping into his limbs. His hands felt numb. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep going.

  And then he heard it: a car, its engine vrooming. The sounds travelled through the dark: the squeak of dodgy suspension, the squeal of tyres. He twisted round and saw the Land Rover, only a hundred metres behind them. The headlights were blinding and he couldn’t make out who was at the wheel. There was a deafening bang. A bullet whizzed past his ear.

  It’s Ailsa. She’s found us. We’re done for. I’m sorry, Rhona. I’m so sorry.

  The Land Rover was gaining ground, gears crunching as it dragged itself up the hillside, churning up mud. Its headlights picked out the unicorn, however desperately she dodged. And she was flagging badly: her coat was slicked with sweat a
nd her hooves stumbled and slipped on the damp grass and scattered rocks. Lewis strained to see, but it was pitch-dark ahead.

  Lewis could no longer tell if the pounding sound was his heart or the unicorn’s hooves. The Land Rover was almost at their heels. It swerved to the side. Another shot ran out, thunderously loud. The unicorn’s whole body shuddered, and her head jerked back as the bullet whizzed past them, thwacked into something solid. Lewis leaned even further forward, so his head was on the unicorn’s neck.

  “Keep going,” he whispered. “You’ll soon be home.”

  He had no idea if this was the truth, but he could tell she was at the end of her tether, needing some hope.

  The vehicle swerved again, aiming straight for them. Its headlights lit up the way and Lewis let out the breath he’d been holding. His shoulders sagged with relief. There was a forest ahead, thick and dark. Its perimeter was guarded by a battalion of tall Scots pines.

  “We’ve made it. She can’t follow us in there.”

  With a final surge of energy, the unicorn galloped towards the trees. As she reached them, it was as if the tree trunks drew back to let her enter, then reformed into a bristling, impenetrable line. Behind them Lewis heard a screech of brakes, a piercing, furious scream.

  Ailsa wouldn’t give up. He was sure of it. She’d follow them on foot, shotgun in hand. But it was pitch-black in the forest. She wouldn’t have the car lights to guide her. And the unicorn seemed to know exactly which way she was heading. She picked her way delicately over tree roots, rotting fungi and dead leaves. Steam billowed from her nostrils and her coat felt damp with sweat, but she held her head high. This was Whindfall Forest, and she’d come home.

  Despite his fear and exhaustion, Lewis felt proud. He’d fulfilled his promise to the stallion. He’d brought Sneachda safely home. But he was a long, long way from his own home. And his best friend was missing. If Alex’s story was true, this forest was cursed: was it a danger to all humans or only to those who meant to harm the unicorns? Lewis knew he had to leave. He’d got the unicorn to Whindfall, and now he had to find Rhona.