by Kay Hooper
Hunter drew a deep breath. “No. No, I suppose it’s possible.”
“Possible? Think of that first soldier-king and his green-eyed bride, the wife he won with a promise. Think. The mountaintop home. The slender, fair people—on a high-gravity world where they could never have evolved naturally. Hunter, isn’t your family different in physical stature from most of those in your world? Taller, fairer, and green-eyed?”
His mind coping with possibilities, Hunter said almost absently, “Yes, all of that. Only those of the royal house have green eyes; all of us do, except those who married into our family. And we’re taller than most.” Tension stole into him, and disbelief swiftly fractured into shards as he neared the core of truth within his own set of puzzles.
“Your ancestor,” she said quietly, “the man whose name you bear, took a goddess for his bride.”
“No,” Hunter denied instantly, unwilling to accept that.
“That has to be it,” she insisted. “She was a Guardian, Hunter. Only godlike beings, beings so advanced and wise they seem godlike to us, can plan and control the destinies of generations to come. Is it so impossible that your ancestor took one of the Guardian race for his bride? And that his bride-price was a promise to aid when called? The Unicorns knew, Hunter, and the cards told me part of it. That a green-eyed prince called Hunter would leave his world on a Quest and find a valley where myth walked. That he would come here to fulfill a prophecy made by the Guardians themselves. After ten thousand years of waiting…You were meant to come here, Hunter; it was a part of your destiny.”
Hunter shook his head. “The Guardians could have had nothing to do with my leaving my world. Omega didn’t summon me; I’ve never worn the ring, never felt anything at all from it.”
“You forget.” Siri smiled gently. “The child of Hunter will be summoned. Your firstborn, my love. Our firstborn. The Guardians planned well. The knowledge of aeons can be passed on through me, the wisdom of four races. And through you comes the strength of a warrior and the ancient lineage of kings descended from a unique soldier-king and a daughter of the gods.”
Hunter tried to let all that sink in, finding to his astonishment that there was no resistance left in his mind. He believed because it was no longer in him to disbelieve. He believed because he felt it was true.
Slowly, he said, “But why will the summons come? What will it be about?”
“I don’t know. Only time will tell us that.”
Hunter sighed. “A woman set to be Keeper of myth by the Guardians; a man descended from Guardians, bound by a promise made generations before.”
Looking down at the ring she still touched, Siri found then that her Well of Knowledge could define the cryptic symbol carved in the polished stone. “Omega,” she murmured. “Letter. Symbol. The end. The last.”
He looked at her, never questioning the knowledge. “The last? Last what?”
“I don’t know.”
“Could your mother tell us?”
Siri reflected. “Probably. But she won’t unless and until she thinks we should know.”
“Then we wait, beloved? And live?”
“We wait. And we live, my love.”
—
Siri awoke several mornings later with a start, feeling a peculiar heaviness, as if a thick blanket lay over her. She slipped from the bed, careful not to wake Hunter, thinking the heaviness merely some residue of a forgotten dream. But the feeling wouldn’t ease. She dressed silently, trying to breathe slowly, feeling her heart beginning to pound harder and harder.
What was wrong with her?
Uneasiness haunting her, she stepped to the open door to gaze out into the valley, seeing the herd grazing quietly. She had the fleeting idea that they moved too slowly, as if in a dream, but then it was gone. She turned back to the silent cabin and found herself moving to the table, laying out the cards instinctively. But there was nothing there; nothing except the constant Summer warning to be wary.
She rose and moved about the cabin restlessly. Then, realizing what she was doing, she stopped in the center of the room and gazed about slowly and searchingly. There was something wrong, something she saw or didn’t see that disturbed her. What was it? Normal items in their accustomed places, the shelves holding implements and folded clothing and—
Siri heard her breathing quicken in the still room. Where was Cloud’s horn? She went to the high shelf and searched with her fingers, thinking, hoping that perhaps the horn had rolled back against the wall. But it wasn’t there. Then, puzzled and disturbed, she searched the floor all around the shelves. Perhaps it had fallen?
No. The horn was gone.
Siri turned toward the bed, Hunter’s name in her throat, rising to her lips. But she didn’t call out. Instead, she moved again to the door and stood gazing out over the valley. All appeared peaceful. The sun was rising cheerfully, birds twittered brightly in the forest. The cards had warned of nothing specific, advised only wariness as usual. But she felt…
There was a tiny spot of blankness in her mind, her senses. It was oddly difficult for her to breathe, the feeling of heaviness clinging like a blanket. And she felt curiously weak, drained. The hand she held out before her trembled faintly, drawing a frown from her as she stared at it.
Was she only weary? Had the violent activity and emotions of the Summer finally caught up with her? She thought with a sudden smile that no Keeper before her had known the physically draining but definitely pleasurable activity of lovemaking. Even as the thought occurred to her, she felt another wave of weakness, a faint discomfort in her mind.
How strange.
She hesitated again, on the point of waking Hunter, but decided against it. She was just tired, that was all. Only partly reassured, she left the cabin, her steps turning toward the Crystal Pool. Rayne was probably there, she thought vaguely, since the foal was not near the rest of the herd. The small unicorn would most likely be delighted to join her in a morning swim; maybe that would clear her stuffy head.
She glanced at the herd as she passed, telling Storm mentally what she was going to do. And she was only partially aware that the stallion lifted his head slowly, that his acknowledgment seemed oddly distant and muffled, as though reaching her through a layer of thick cotton.
The quickly rising sun was well up when she entered the forest, its slanting rays brightening what would be shaded later in the day. She followed the path, her steps quickening without her conscious volition, even as she felt weaker, shakier.
She forced her sluggish mind to think about the missing horn, trying to explain its absence. Perhaps inquisitive Rayne had found the horn lying on the floor during one of her visits to the cabin and playfully made away with it? No. No, that didn’t seem right. Rayne would hardly be disrespectful. Yes, that was the word. Disrespectful. Had Hunter moved the horn and forgotten to tell her? But why would he do that? Had she herself moved the horn and then forgotten? Forgotten…Something forgotten…
Siri ran a hand across her eyes irritably. Why couldn’t she think? It was as if something had curtained her mind, smothered it somehow.
The moment her hand left her eyes, Siri froze, her breathing and heart suspended, eyes going wide and black and agonized. Then a reckless fury launched her in a headlong dive toward the man bent over a frail, crumpled white body stained with scarlet.
A man with half the face of an angel.
And the cry that burst from her lips was wild with rage and grief and heavy with remorse.
“Rayne!”
Chapter 12
Hunter, waking to find Siri gone, rose and dressed quickly. He wondered if he would always be uneasy when she was away from him, or if the worry would trouble him only in Summer and only in the valley. Thinking of some of the worlds he’d walked on, he doubted it; if he and Siri visited those dangerous places, he knew he would worry about her. But the thought of her pleasure and excitement in seeing wonders unknown to her far outweighed his instinctive desire to protect her.
H
e smiled as he crossed to the open door, looking forward to seeing worlds anew through her eyes. The smile remained as he gazed out at the peaceful herd of Unicorns. Idly, he continued his ongoing attempts to become more adept in mind-touch; the Unicorns were easiest to communicate with, although it was growing easier to reach the cool, shaded depths of Siri’s mind.
After a moment he frowned, wondering why the herd was ignoring him. No white, horned face turned inquiringly toward the cabin; no distinctive, curiously alien mind-voice reached out in response. Odd. Now that he considered it, he realized that he felt odd, somewhat shaky and weak. His mind seemed sluggish, and he had the impulse to rub his forehead hard although he felt no pain.
Very odd.
Then, before he could make a second attempt to reach the Unicorns with his mind, he heard Siri’s voice crying out in rage and pain, the single word slicing fear through his body.
“Rayne!”
Hunter erupted instantly from the cabin. A part of his perception saw the Unicorns galvanized by the scream, saw gentle Dawn whirling toward the forest in a mother’s instinctive leap toward her daughter. Though he wasn’t sure what danger confronted them, Hunter instantly sent a ringing mental command, unknowingly blasting through the layers blanketing all their minds.
Storm! Hide them!
He saw the stallion quickly head off the distraught mare, turning them all toward another path to their cave—this one taking them away from the forest and the threat within it. Then Hunter pushed the Unicorns from his mind and ran, desperate to reach his love.
—
Siri’s dive, instinctive rather than planned, carried them both several feet away from the limp body of the foal. Nearly blind with fury, she grappled with the powerful man, managing to hold off his bloody knife but unable to get it away from him. Then Boran sacrificed a moment of vulnerability to slap her viciously, the powerful blow abruptly draining the strength from Siri’s arms.
Instantly, he snatched a leather thong from his belt and bound her wrists tightly at her waist, taking advantage of her dizziness and nausea. His heavy weight held her body still, and his knife was at her throat.
“You weren’t supposed to come out here, princess.” His incongruously beautiful voice held a curious blend of anger and entreaty.
Siri turned her head away sickly, grieving eyes searching for the fallen Rayne. Tears blinded her for a moment, then her vision cleared and her body arched in a desperate attempt to throw off the weight of the man. “She’s still breathing! Let me go to her!”
“I can’t take the horn if she lives,” Boran explained, his one clear green eye inches from Siri’s face. “I have to have the horn. Especially now. You stole my manhood, bitch. I need the Triad more than ever.”
Siri looked at him, fighting her sickness at the sight of that horribly mutilated face. She could remember, but only vaguely, that he had threatened her with rape. And she had fought in the only way she had possessed. “You would have destroyed me,” she whispered. “What I did—”
“What you did,” he rasped, “was worse than destroying me! I went to the city, princess-bitch. I paid a whore to lie with me. And I—She laughed! She laughed at me! I wanted to kill her, but I…You took that away, too. All the way back here, I planned to kill you.” He looked down at her, the hand still holding the knife rubbing lightly across her breasts. “I’ll make you a queen,” he said suddenly, hoarsely. “All will bow down to you!”
Siri turned her face away, sickened and afraid, realizing that his evil mind had splintered. In stealing his manhood, she herself had driven him over the edge into total madness. He hated her with a mindless, obsessed rage, yet he wanted her with a terrible hunger—and he was afraid of her.
In an eerie, reasonable tone, Boran said, “I just have to get this horn; I took the other from the cabin while you slept with—him. And I have King’s horn. The Triad, princess! I’ll get the talisman from him, and then we can leave this accursed place!”
“No.” She swallowed, trying to speak clearly, forcing herself to look at him. Trying to fight the smothering blanket that, even now, this powerful man wrapped around her. “I love Hunter.”
His twisted lips moved in a horrible grimace, and the single green eye blazed. “You spread your legs for him, didn’t you, bitch-princess? I knew. As soon as I returned, I knew. He had you first!” Still holding the knife, Boran moved his thumb across her lips roughly, again and again, staring fixedly at what he was doing. “I’ll wipe away the taste of him,” he whispered. “And when you give me back my manhood, I’ll teach your lovely body to forget him. We’ll reign together, my princess. I’ll be good to you, I promise. I’ll pleasure you as he never could. Just give me back my manhood.”
Through the bruised lips he was still roughly scraping with his thumb, she whispered, “No, I won’t.”
Boran made a strangled sound, the knife once again returning to her throat as he heard what was in her mind. “Never undone…what is done, never undone. You bitch! You turned me into a eunuch! Reverse your spell! Do it, or I’ll—”
“Boran!”
“I’ll cut her throat if you move!” Boran snapped, his head turning, the single eye glaring malevolently at Hunter.
And Hunter stood frozen, the shocks piled one atop the other holding him motionless. At his feet lay Rayne, her stained side rising and falling pitifully with her labored breathing. Feet away lay Siri, held down by the weight of Boran’s body, her hands bound, a knife at her throat.
Hunter felt another wave of weakness pass over him, vaguely aware that it was Boran who caused it, that somehow he was exerting some force over them all. “What do you want?” he asked hoarsely, fighting that weakness, desperate to get the other man away from Siri before he used that knife.
Boran tilted his head to one side, as if listening to distant music or a distant memory. “I want to see you suffer, Hunter,” he said slowly, reasonably.
“You were my friend!” Hunter burst out, bewildered. “My brother!”
“Brother!” Boran’s voice went suddenly brittle with loathing. “I was firstborn! My mother bore me alone with no tender Wisewoman’s hands to help. Carried me back to the palace though she could hardly walk herself. She told the Court when I was born before she knew of your birth! Firstborn, the rightful king after Jason died. But Tynan and the other Elders couldn’t stomach the thought of me on the throne, could they, dear brother? They couldn’t bear the thought of a scarred king! So they invented their little Quest and sent us both out into space, trusting blindly that you would return first.”
He laughed harshly. “They were wrong. Brother? I hated you, despised you, and you never even knew. I planned your death and you never knew!”
Hunter’s numb mind sought memory and answers, finding both. “The trial,” he whispered.
And he remembered the trial by fire, the test of manhood that had been abandoned years before by a peaceful civilization. It had been Boran’s idea to resurrect the old custom, his idea that they test one another. On the threshold of manhood, both young and arrogant, they had joined in what was supposed to be mock battle. Then an accident, a misstep by Hunter’s mount, had knocked Boran into the fire—
“Yes,” Boran hissed softly. “Jason would have chosen you as his successor, and we both knew it. So I planned. You were meant to die that day, Hunter. Instead, it was I who went into the fire, yet survived. Survived to see women faint at the sight of my face. Survived to hear the whispers advising the King to choose you as his successor. And he would have, because Boran would disgust the Court with his horrible face!”
“You said it was an accident,” Hunter said dully. “You said you forgave me.”
“And you believed me! I decided to wait until you assumed the throne. I knew you, Hunter. I knew you’d never place another above me. You’d be King, and I’d be your most trusted adviser. And I would kill you one day. But then Jason thwarted my plans by dying before he could name his successor. And the cowardly Council sent us fro
m Rubicon.”
Siri absorbed what was being said, but while Boran was distracted by his need to explain his hatred, she was forming a plan of her own. Bit by bit, she was drawing back the mental strength he’d stolen from her. Cautiously, she was calling on every resource available, pulling energy from the deepest corners of her body and mind. All she needed was a moment, an instant of power greater than this evil man could command.
Boran’s sighted eye glittered balefully. “I followed you, looking for my chance. If you were dead, I’d be King whether or not I found proof of unicorns. More than once, some alien weapon in my hand nearly killed you, but your luck was strong. So I concentrated on building my own powers, and I followed. When you heard of unicorns near the Huntmen’s city, I heard as well. I was here before you. I found King and the horn he possessed. And I had heard of the Triad, and the power to be gained by taking the Keeper. I knew I needed the strength of both to defeat you and return to rule our world.”
Hunter fought to throw off the draining weakness he felt. “Siri’s done nothing to you, Boran. This is between the two of us. Your revenge concerns only me.”
Boran tilted his head again in the curious, listening gesture. “Yes. I meant to have her, of course,” he said in a slow, distant voice. “It was amusing to control her. And I came so close to having her.” He shook his head suddenly, and the green eye was glittering again. “You think I don’t know you’d cut your own throat, consign your own soul to hell to spare her pain?”
“If you harm her,” Hunter promised thickly, “I swear I’ll break every bone in your body! And my soul will chase yours to the farthest corners of hell!”
Boran’s single eye went distant again, and he frowned. “Hurt her? My princess-bitch? I have to have her, first. After I kill you, then I’ll have her. I wanted you to watch while I spread her legs and buried myself in her, but she—” His mouth twisted. “She’s a witch. She has great powers. But once I’ve had her, I’ll command those powers. She’ll be my queen.”
