by Conny Conway
Pain and agony drove the fury in Xylophia as she bit into the talon deep, as the bone crunched between her teeth, she ripped her mouth away, slashing big chunks out of the claws. The harpies withdraw it in a hissing sound of the sting, allowing Xylophia to take a deep hurtful breath. With the oxygen new strength grew deep inside the unicorn. Again she went on her rear legs as to get a booster start, she rammed against the harpies’ underside, lifted her head, penetrated the layer of feathers, muscles, keeping galloping as she tore her horn down. Another excruciating scream left the grey beak as the monster turned to keep the unicorn in its sight. But it was too slow and again Xylophia sliced the harpies’ belly as she ran under the towering monster. Guts showered the white beast as she exited the other side.
Very slowly the harpies turned again, weak from blood loss it sank to its knees and then on the sliced abdomen.
Xylophia charged again, aiming this time for the heart. Her aim was straight. Her horn sank deep in the pumping organ.
With a last effort the harpies ducked her head, and her tail shot forward, spearing Xylophia’s hip. Anguish tore through the unicorns’ blood vessels as the poison injected. She pulled her horn out of the harpies’ center, slowly she backed up, heard Lann’s footstep grow closer, listened to the gnomes gasps, registered Shiloh’s cry of terror as the unicorn sank to her knees, where she sat. Dizziness overcame her, darkness, and not only from the night, drew closer to the majestic unicorn, embracing her merciful to release her of her misery.
She came to open her eyes and sunlight blinded her, reflected of the white paint of the houses surrounding the shelter she rested in. The brightness hurt her eyes, so she closed them tiredly, a sigh escaping her white muzzle.
Far in the distance, so it seemed, she heard voices, familiar and full of excitement, then she felt enveloped in soft flesh, arms supposedly. A sweet aroma of a jasmine tickled her nostrils and memories fought to surface her foggy brain, though the effort it took was too much.
Something wet trickled through her white fur and dripped down her rips. Agony ripped through her lower half, her hip seemed on fire. Someone laid a cold compress on it and she welcomed the cool dampness, which suppressed the fire in her bones somewhat.
Another familiar voice, now male, spoke to her, in a gentle tone but Xylophia didn’t understand a word.
Chilled water was poured into her mouth gently and she swallowed. Her tongue felt parched, and her whole existence was one hell, full of volcanic heat. Darkness reached for her again.
She dreamed of a quest through desserts, crossing the hellish river of lost souls, then she saw herself sleeping up in the canopy of trees. A funny willow wisp accompanied her, making her laugh. Her, the unemotional unicorn. She saw a burning tree in her fevered dream, reaching its fiery branches to catch her and she ran, ran into a swamp, a swamp of dreariness, sucking out her life force, she dreamed of a beach, felt something stirring her heard with pain of loss, then she saw a God, she was certain it was a major God but she couldn’t recall his name. She dreamed of a vessel, carrying her and four shades, the wisp and a flying, small animal over the deep blue water , saw mermaids and sirens luring her into the depth of the ocean, gasping, choking she fought the beasts, miraculously she felt the swaying of her vessel underneath her again. Then she saw another beach and volcanoes spitting out rocks, lava and ashes, but this time she was alone. Where was her wisp? He had been so much fun, had lit her path through the nightmares. In her vision she saw herself galloping through the ashes, which again choked her, a fiery rock landed on her hip and made her twitch in pain, robbing more of her precious breath. She ran and ran, tried to flee the pain. In the distance were the white walls of a city, she kept running around and around but she couldn’t find the entrée, no drawbridge, no gate. All the while the rock sat on her hip and burned her, the pain was excruciating and drove her mad. Foam formed at her muzzle and the choking sensation deepened.
Chapter 18
The first night, after the battle with the harpies, Lann and Shiloh had carried the white beast into the stable with the help of several elves, they kept vigil at the unicorn’s side, which laid like dead, her breath labored.
The following day they still stayed next to Xylophia and through the following night.
Willie too, stayed at night next to his friends, illuminating the shelter for them after Shiloh grew his plant, Lann fed it to him, but the wisp didn’t freak out in his normal spectacle, instead his light shone brighter than ever.
As the morning dawned, exhaustion overwhelmed the female and she sank into a pitiful sleep, tossing and turning, jerking up with the unicorn’s name on her lips.
About noon, she was somewhat rested and told Lann to lay in the hay and get some shut eye, so it came they took turns napping to keep their strength up.
Their host had given them some seeds, after discovering Shiloh’s magic, telling them to grow it hastily. He then harvested the plants and smashed them by chewing them thoroughly, spit the mass into a bucket of cold water, mixed it well and applied a compress. He then told them to renew the compress every hour on the dot.
Ealhdun vanished back to his Inn, but he checked on them often, bringing food, wine and ale to them. When he caught Shiloh napping he went back into the house, exited it again with a pillow and a quilt under his arms. Tenderly he lifted her head and pushed the pillow in place, then he spread the quilt over the young woman. Nodded to Lann and disappeared again.
Time stretched unbearably, all the time Lann and Shiloh replaced the compresses in hourly fashion as Ealhdun has instructed them. Hours turned into days and nights. The unicorn tossed and turned feverishly, plagued by nightmares and bad dreams.
After a week, of stung by the harpy, her fever spiked, here breathing was more labored than ever. The Golden warrior and the human female really worried that they would lose their friend Xylophia. But to their amazement the white beast’s silvery eyelashes fluttered open. They could tell by her stare that she was still in the grip of the poison, but her eyes were open, both believed that must have been a good sign.
Xylophia in turn saw the world in a fog, distant, unreal and translucent; she didn’t recognize her dear friends and drifted back into her hot hell.
More time passed, seconds to minutes, to hours and another day.
It was the eighth night when Lann, who was keeping watch over the unicorn, heard distant hooves galloping speedily towards their barn.
Due to the weather being warm the door was open, outside lingered the darkness of the night. The clutter slowed right in front of their shelter and the Black stallion appeared in the dim light of Willie.
Lann couldn’t believe his eyes and his jaw dropped in amazement to see the unicorn offspring so sudden. But he was not the one to argue, he was certain night stalker would be of immense help to his parent.
The black horse emerged close to the unicorn, nudged the Golden warrior tenderly, then he bowed his majestic head down to the white beasts lying in the hay. He prodded his black nose to the white nose, he poked and licked the unicorn lovingly, trying to awaken her desperately, to no avail.
By now Lann had tried to awaken Shiloh. In bewilderment they both stared at the equines.
The Steed realized he could not raise the unicorn by just nudging and tender licks, he changed his approach, his mane, tail and hooves ignited, burst into flames, red and hot.
Again and again he sniffed his parent thoroughly over and over again. At the end of its examination his nose halted, hovering over the injured hip. A heart wrenching weenie escaped the impressive horse as he realized the severity of the wound, as his nose got a deep whiff of the poison circulating in the majestic creature's veins.
For just a heart beat his gaze bore into Lann’s, unspoken words exchange from him to the warrior and they understood each other without the spoken conversation. The man nodded. As the stallion returned his attention to the unicorn, Lann explained to Shiloh that the offspring was about to help his mother, but that the help co
uld backfire and kill Xylophia instead of healing her.
The Golden worrier knew too well the price of magic.
Night stalker knelt next to his parent, took an immense breath and opened his muzzle, bearing his gleaming teeth and bit hard into the site of the harpies’ sting, he suckled, he chewed, he expelled fur, tissue, blood and puss. Then he sank his teeth again and again into the unicorn’s hip, extracted the poison, the infection, necrotic flesh. He did this over and over again until he was satisfied and his tongue tasted nothing else but healthy tissue; a spear like hot frame exited the horse's mouth.
Exhausted he laid down next to this parent, though he had glanced to the two humans, in his eyes they read the fear of losing the white beast, begging them to stay with him and the unicorn.
Ealhdun had silently entered the barn. After the stallion’s administration the elf took the concoction of herbs without a word, dumped it outside of the barn, pumped the water pump, rinsed the bowl thoroughly. Then he filled it with fresh, chilled water of the well and brought it back into the barn, he did the same thing with the washcloths they had used as a compress. When the rag was clean he brought it back and laid it in the bowl. Without hesitation he rung it out and laid it softly on the unicorn’s wound.
“Now this is a sight to see.” Ealhdun said, admiring the two different equines, one white as snow with that simple horn adoring its forehead, silvery gleam all over its body, next to it late the pitch black stallion, his mane, tale and eyes were no longer ablaze.
Xylophia’s breathing came out easier, obviously her offspring had eased her suffering with this fire magic, for the first time real hope entered Lann’s heart. The woman in his arms sobbed, but not so much from worry, expectation was filling her entire being also.
The three humans sat and watched the beasts for little longer, then the elf got up and left them to their vigil over the two equines.
Softly the warrior and his female debated, whispered to each other of hope, hope for future with the unicorn, the two flying creatures and the reunification with Derwa; they had no doubt that Poseidon would fulfill his promise, healing the Druid and to return her safely to the companions.
All too soon Shiloh inquired about Lann’s past. The Golden warrior trusted the human and answered openly the questions about his childhood, his magic, his feelings and religion, about females in his past. He answered in little anecdotes.
Stories which had happened throughout his lifetime. First Shiloh listened to him attentively, though the softness and the timber of his voice relaxed her and she drifted off into dreams. Tenderly he stroked her hair, breathed a kiss on her forehead, covered her. They sat close to the beam, which supported his back, getting somewhat more comfortable, he too closed to his eyes and darkness surrounded him soon after, refreshing his weary body with new energy.
The sun was already high in the sky when Ealhdun brought them some breakfast. The innkeeper had filled a tray with bread, cheese, fresh fried eggs and milk.
He entered the barn and then he dropped his tray. The clatter of the dishes woke Lann and Shiloh. In puzzlement they stared at the elf, registering his gaping mouth, his eyes wide open, staring unbelievable at the two equines. Night stalker was standing up, his parent was halfway on her side, but she was alert and awake, still weak from the ordeal of her high fever, the poison, the wound, which was now covered by a thin layout of skin, definitely healing.
“By all the gods!” He breathed.
The lovers followed his gaze and saw also the miracle which had happened why there were resting.
Shiloh jumped to her feet, ran to the stall and hugged the unicorn under tears, all the time mumbling, “You are alive! You’re alive. We have not lost you. You came back to us. Oh, Xylophia, my friend.” She sobbed into the silvery, white fur.
“I’m so happy you survived.” Lann had emerged also, laid his hand on the unicorn shoulder as to prove to himself that she really was awake and alive. The beast nuzzled them gently.
The devious growl echoed in the halls of the Royal caverns. Marcus twitched but not in fear of the Lord of the underworld, just from the noise alone, Balor was throwing one temper tantrum after the other, he was not happy.
Even though he had lost his spy somehow the news of the little troop entering the city at the edge of the labyrinth, the unicorns fight with the harpies had reached him.
He would have never thought they would make it that far, not in his wildest dreams. And as such he was furious, punching, kicking, killing and destroying everything in his way. That day a lot of his people lost their life to his rage. His one single eye was bloodshot, the pupil was lit up with the fire over each. The destruction was accompanied by his growling and his furious screams.
Marcus could care less about the dead bodies of demons, trolls, dark elves, vampires and such folks.
In fact insight he was snickering. He knew that Balor’s servants are not satisfied with their King, not pleased with its ferocity, which knew no end to the result that they had to pay with their lives, even the immortals were not safe from his wrath.
The gladiator bid his time, stood upright in front of the throne while the dark King raged. At times the Roman wished he would become one of the demon kings victims, but he was not that lucky, he didn’t die, did not perish.
On the other hand he should count blessings that he was not one of the fatalities, cause if he had been, Balor would have just reanimate him and he would still be damned, cursed to live at this court, fulfilling the Kings bidding. Every so often he was hit by flying debris, chunks of stones, limps of the dark folk, the head of a gnome, an arm of a werewolf, the cause his cheek bore deep scratches, the foot of a giant, the battle ax from the dwarf, and other fragments.
And still he stood straight, tall, brave.
Not proud though, he had lost his pride a long time ago. Balor hadlong extracted that with all the tortures he had put Markus through, just like his humanity it had vanished piece by piece into the darkness, left behind was emptiness but one wish, to be released.
The gladiator’s eyes gazed over the wreckage of bodies and the interior of the great cave. He almost felt sorry for the dark folk, almost.
Balor raged and raged for hours, a day and a night, while the unicorn was fighting for her life in the city so close by.
Marcus had to admit, Lann and Shiloh were impressing him, he too had never thought they would even make it out of the desert, the second hell.
So that they make it to the city of Dragon Ville, also known as the eight hell, was very remarkable and his respect for the two of them grew, with every hell they crossed successfully.
He had seen Shiloh, the human female, she had seem so weak and fragile, though in fact she must have a secret strength, otherwise she would have never made it to the village.
The ninth hell was that Gates to the Royal caverns, the Coliseum right in front of the moat, protected by himself, Marcus Valentus, the greatest gladiator ever to had fought the Coliseum in Rome ,Nero’s personal favorite.
Just for a moment his mind wandered back to the time he had spent with the Emperor. He had lived the life of the God, women, wine and food, no troubles darkened his heart, he would have never believed that Nero would sell his soul to Balor to save his own soul supposedly he rinsed the sins of his soul, and while he burned Rome, playing his lyre and singing to the flames, Marcus Valentus was chained to the wall in the dark labyrinth’s dungeon, not knowing what to expect of the future, not even understanding how he got here nor why. How had he ended up here and where was here? Why had Nero forsaken him, him the great gladiator, the Emperor’s fighter?
Again the Roman thought of the fragile female from the world of above; her skin like China, her long auburn hair and her eyes, full of fear when she had seen the demons, the creatures surrounding her.
He thought, no he was certain, that she had never seen one before or believe in them, not in vampires, werewolves, fairies, elves and other creatures. He wanted to bet that she had never seen a
fallen angel nor the devil, the demigod or any God.
He knew she had been ripped out of her world, had seen in her eyes the horror confronting her at Balor’s court, saw the plea for mercy as her gaze had fallen on him the only humanlike creature.
And what had she known?
He might look like a human, but his soul was long dead, gone into the darkness the King had thrown over him like a blanket. Though if he thought hard, he remembered the fears of confronting this world for the first time.
The greatest fighter in the world had peed his pants at the site of Balor for the very first time. He knew the emotion of that one single eye burning into your brain.
And now he’s still stands tall and brave, in the middle of the devastation in the great Hall of the dark King’s court; and something wonderful was happening. There was a spark of a sentiment deep inside of him.
He was not sure what to call it, not even sure what it was, but it was a feeling so wonderful and bright it brought a smile to his face, after hundreds and hundreds of years.
He thought deeply about this sensation and what it meant to him, try to put a name on it and who had awoken it.
Meanwhile the dark King, the ruler of death and destruction, raged.
Chapter 19
“Sir, don’t worry about unicorn, she’s in the best hands ever. She had saved us all from the harpies, we are in her debt, one we could never repay. You just go, do what you need to do, save Shiloh and do not fret about Xylophia. We will take care of her, besides she’s almost as good as new. “Ealhdun exclaimed.
“But I feel like I’m betraying her. She’s one of us and I cannot just leave her behind.” Lann said.
“She needs more rest, my Lord. And as I said before, we owe her. Let us take care of her. Now that the Black stallion is gone she needs more than ever some tender loving and care. You saw how the people celebrated her after the fight with the harpies, in fact the villages still celebrating now that she’s healthy. Life has returned to our houses, peace to our hearts and sunshine to our skies. Our houses are no longer red, they are white ones again. Once again our lives are good. So, it just seems right that she stays with us to be nursed to her old self.”
