The Conspiracy of Unicorns

by Michael Angel

  With one of my brain’s weird clicks, I got the answer.

  “I just opened the wrong lid,” I said as I knelt next to the hive box. “There’s several kinds of mites that feed on bees, and they can turn them into dry husks in no time.”

  “Aye,” Shaw objected, “but if the little beasties ran out of food, wouldst they not just leave?”

  “Mites can’t fly,” Liam pointed out. “They only crawl, and poorly, at that.”

  “Once the food ran out, all they could do would be to drop off,” I concluded, as I reached under to unhook the hive’s bottom slat. This wasn’t the ‘floor’ of the hive so much as a sub-level that allowed air to circulate from below. I finally found the carved grip and pulled out the slat in one smooth motion.

  A layer of rust-colored powder coated the wood. Careful not to breathe in any of the dust-like substance, I touched a gloved fingertip to the surface. Then I brought it closer to my eye to look at it under the morning sun.

  “That’s it,” I said, as my eyes made out the mass of dead mites. “The answer to our mystery. We thought the threat was from the outside, but instead, it was something the colony brought inside. And it devoured them from within.”

  I wiped my finger against a clear spot before replacing the slat. Shaw and Liam fell in at my side as I headed back towards the table where I’d set up my examination tools. I looked over to Sir Quinton’s father as I spoke.

  “Looks like you were right about one thing, Lord Quinton.”

  The man looked startled. “What was that, Dame Chrissie?”

  “You’ll be snuffing out the results of that hive with fire. We can’t chance anything trying to colonize or explore the structure. If there’s even a few mites left alive in there, a stray foraging bee could spread them to the other swarms.”

  “Very well,” he said stiffly. “I’ll go speak to my smith. He’s always got a fire on.”

  Lady Quinton followed her husband back to the castle and I waved for Sir Quinton to join us. The young knight made his way over, though he still limped badly from the injury he’d suffered during the battle of the Oxine River.

  “Those mites move fast,” I said to Liam. “But if we ever spot this problem again, can you solve it? I mean, couldn’t you talk to them in the same way you speak to the bees?”

  The Protector of the Forest hesitated a moment before answering.

  “I’ve been testing the boundaries of my power as it continues to grow. I can speak to all sorts of animals, but when it comes to the six-legged…it seems that there’s a limit. I can converse with and give orders to insects that live in hives, or at least ‘swarm’. Below that threshold, the most I can do is offer ‘stern advice’.”

  “Uh…any idea what causes the ‘limit’?”

  “The organism’s native intelligence. Below a certain level, it’s hard to communicate with lower-order creatures. Things like pill bugs, centipedes, mites, ticks, griffins…”

  Shaw let out an offended squawk. “‘Ware, fey deerling! Thou art not immune to a drake’s hunger, doth I make myself understood?”

  Liam remained poker-faced. “You see what I mean, Dayna?”

  “Dame Chrissie,” Sir Quinton said, “the remainder of our party has arrived.”

  Elegant as ever with his sangria-colored jacket and Wuthering Heights hair, Galen trotted out from the castle gates towards us. Lord Ghaznavi and Sir Exton followed in his wake. Their armor glinted in the sun as it finally crested the trees. Exton looked bored, while Ghaznavi’s face was pinched in annoyance.

  “We have completed our inspection of the remaining hives, Dame Chrissie,” Exton announced. “All appears normal, at least to my untrained eye.”

  “As it did to mine,” Ghaznavi added, a trifle grumpily. “I’m afraid that this trip may have been a waste. Of both our time and our Wizard’s power.”

  I threw a glance towards Galen, who smiled and gave a shrug. “Perchance the Head of our Knightly Order has more on her mind. It does not seem accidental that we have all been summoned.”

  Galen was being polite as always, for he knew my ultimate purpose. In fact, I’d worked out the plan and engaged in more than a little diplomacy behind the scenes with him and Regent Magnus. I could finally put my knights to some real work.

  “We’ve figured out what happened to the hive out here,” I said, and the Wizard’s eyebrow raised in his usual expression of interest. “Thanks to you, we know the rest of them are safe. But beekeeping isn’t at issue here. I had Galen transport the two of you here because I have something dangerous in mind. Very dangerous, in fact. Are either of my battle-hardened knights ready for a real combat challenge?”

  I got a pair of feral grins in reply as I began to explain what I needed.

  Chapter Three

  “The first time I visited Bloodwine Holt, I met a centaur named Sir Yaegar,” I began. “Yaegar was the ‘First Hunter’ of the Holt, which means he acted as the local steward for the place. Would that be right, Galen?”

  “Close, though not in the gold,” the Wizard noted. “If I may be punctilious, a ‘steward’ is normally a civil administrator. Since a Holt is a military stronghold, Yaegar would have also overseen military matters. Thus, his role would have been more like that of a seneschal.”

  “Sir Yaegar had lost two fully armed and armored centaurs on his patrol to an unknown type of monster,” I continued. “Whatever it was left a deep set of scratches on his shoulder plate. Galen asked for the plate to be delivered to me so that I could analyze it. I’m sure that Yaegar would have been happy to give it to me.”

  “I’m hearing ‘would have been’ a bit more than I like,” Sir Exton remarked. “What happened to this brave man-at-arms? Or would it be ‘centaur-at-arms’?”

  I gave him a look. “He was killed the very next morning. Murdered by Sir Caltrop the Bastard, who’d been possessed by Bonecarver, the leader of the Shapeless Ones. A few days later, that same demon led the host you fought against at the Oxine.”

  Exton’s mouth flattened into a grim line at that information.

  “Given the crush of events surrounding the battle, we had forgotten about this plate,” Galen said, as he shifted his weight with a soft clop of his hooves. “Until my sister Rikka was promoted to Yaegar’s former position as First Hunter of Bloodwine Holt. She inquired as to whether we still wanted to follow up this line of inquiry, to which I gratefully acceded.”

  “To make a long story short,” I concluded, “I found a trace of tissue that matches samples I took following the attack on the Spring Tournament. Bloodwine Holt has a wyvern problem.”

  “Wyvern?” Lord Ghaznavi asked, as he ran his fingers through his beard. “Or ‘Hakseeka’?”

  “The former.” I was glad that he’d asked. I had been doing my best to point out the difference between the two. “Yaegar reported that his patrol was ambushed by a group of dragon-like creatures, though they lacked wings.”

  Liam canted his antlers in my direction as he spoke. “Queen Nagura did say that some of the ‘fallen’ wyvern had lost their ability to fly as well as reason.”

  “If so, they’re a problem for the centaurs,” I agreed. “The fact that they can’t reason doesn’t mean they’re not intelligent foes. And if the Creatures of the Darkness could rally them to their side – or worse, possess their bodies – then they’d be a significant threat to us.”

  “I shall assume that you want us to eliminate that threat!” Sir Exton declared, with an eager flex of his sword hand.

  “Say the word, and it shall be done!” Sir Quinton added.

  “I shall gladly volunteer, for this is a job worthy of the Order of the Ermine,” Ghaznavi said, with a fierce smile.

  “The word is given to all but you,” I said, indicating Sir Quinton. “I’m sorry, but you’re still dealing with that battle injury.”

  The young knight looked crestfallen. “I can ride without difficulty, Dame Chrissie!”

  “Ride, yes. But can you walk? Up and down rocky s
lopes for hours at a time?” I hated to be hard on the man, but I needed him elsewhere. “Sir Yaegar reported that, after the ambush on his patrol, the creatures fled into the mountains to the south of the Holt. The terrain’s rocky and densely forested. Horses are going to have a tough time there.”

  Exton raised an eyebrow. “Horses and centaurs, you mean?”

  “Yes, exactly.” I looked around at each of my knights in turn. “That will make your participation even more valuable. Make no mistake, we need better relations with the centaurs. Both for our Order, and the Kingdom of Andeluvia in general.”

  Lord Ghaznavi cleared his throat. “Ah. As the Lord of the Pursuivant is fond of saying, ‘now we come to delicate matters’. Centaurs bear little love for we humans, it is said. And they’ve banished you from ever returning to their lands. Will the masters of Bloodwine Holt not spear us through like so many game hens when they find out Dame Chrissie is the Head of our Order?”

  Shaw let out a leonine chuckle. “‘Tis an honest concern.”

  “Worry not,” Galen said. “I have worked out an agreement with Rikka, Regent Inga, and Regent Magnus to welcome you to the Holt. You will accompany a centaur patrol for this mission.”

  Talk about luck, I thought. We only wrangled an agreement to do this because the parties included his sister, his mother, and his uncle!

  “Just so you understand, gentlemen,” I said aloud, “you are representing both Andeluvia and the Order of the Ermine. You are going to strengthen alliances in the face of the dark, as well as restore some of our order’s credibility at court.”

  “Risking our lives to slaughter an ancient evil?” Ghaznavi laughed. “Pardon me for saying so, Dame Chrissie, but I would volunteer ten times over for this mission over playing hostel to your pet insects!”

  “No offense taken. I’m just glad that you and Exton are willing to face unknown monsters without magic. You’re going be limited to your armor and the weapons in your hands.”

  Sir Exton beamed. “Sometimes, Dame Chrissie, the best way to solve a problem is with the simplest methods.”

  “I won’t argue with that,” I said. “Galen will transport you three to the armory back at Fitzwilliam’s palace. Exton, Ghaznavi, you shall select any additional weapons you need and take fresh mounts from the Royal Stables. Head directly for Bloodwine Holt, as you are expected there late this evening. Sir Quinton, I need you to return to the Royal Court. I still need your eyes and ears there.”

  Quinton grumbled irritably, but he nodded and limped back to stand next to his two fellow members of the Order. Galen raised his hands. The Wizard’s voice boomed out an incantation. With a soundless flash, the three knights vanished in a blaze of white and puff of ozone.

  As soon as the men vanished, I leaned back against the wooden table. I put my fingers against my temples and rubbed them in a circle, trying to stave off the headache that kept threatening to form. My three friends looked at me curiously.

  “Art thou feeling well?” Grimshaw inquired.

  “Perhaps I have some remedy that could cure your melancholy,” Galen said. The centaur turned to dig in one of his jacket’s many pockets.

  “I can locate some amidach bark if you wish,” Liam offered. “Chewing a piece of it should soothe the stomach, if nothing else.”

  “I’m fine, guys,” I sighed, as I lowered my hands to my sides. “Now that our combat-thirsty knights have something to do, it’s time.”

  “Thou hast me confused. Time for what?”

  I nodded towards the dead beehive. “Time to face the real problem. The issue that’s going to destroy the Order of the Ermine before we ever get a chance to prove ourselves.”

  Chapter Four

  The issue that’s going to destroy the Order of the Ermine.

  I was surprised that you could boil it down to a single issue, for once.

  But at least I had all three of my friends’ attention. Galen’s hooves made soft clops against the soft garden soil as he turned to face me. Liam canted his antlers a bit in my direction. Shaw remained seated in a noble leonine pose that would’ve been perfect to sculpt in marble.

  “The real problem we have,” I announced, “is time. My scheme to make that down payment on our debt would work if we had until the autumn. But now…”

  “Now we have less than a fortnight,” Liam grumbled. “I’ve already spoken with each queen to boost production. The hives are buzzing along at triple the normal rate of production and gathering.”

  Galen’s expression was one of surprise. “You managed to convince them to work at triple their normal rate? That is quite a feat of persuasion, friend.”

  “Well, being Protector of the Forest does give what Dayna calls ‘street cred’. But it’s not just my encouragement. It’s the siting of the hives near cultivated beds of flowers or ranks of orchards. They’ve never had access to such bounty!”

  That made all too much sense. People in this world routinely chopped down and broke open any beehive they could find to plunder the honey. The bees in turn kept their homes far away from the nectar-rich orchards and flower beds set out by the lords and peasants. I’d turned that unhappy equation upside down now.

  “Maybe it was a vain hope,” Liam continued. “But I’d hoped that, between my talks and the surplus of available nectar, we could make up for lost time. The queens tell me that we could have gallons of honey available if we have enough time.”

  “As I said, time is the key,” I said, as I tried – and failed – to keep the irritation out of my voice. “To make things worse, my plan was never to sell honey. It’s valuable stuff, that’s true. But to make the amounts of cash we need, I have to be producing mead. I finally researched the mead-making process after my run-in with Harrison and his Crossbow goons.”

  “I know naught of the process,” Shaw admitted. “Surely thy news cannot be that bad?”

  I threw my hands up. “Bad enough. The fermentation process is easier and quicker than something like wine. But it takes over a month to make something that’s described as ‘a honey-flavored oil slick’. To make the halfway drinkable stuff, you need three to six months.”

  “Alas, our luck continues to run true,” the drake grumbled.

  Liam said nothing to that. He lowered his head and scraped at the ground with one hoof. Shaw looked similarly disgruntled as he fluffed out the feathers along the edge of his wings. Galen crossed his arms, his long jaw moving slightly as if he were chewing over great matters.

  The distant sounds of Lord Quinton’s domain filtered through the silence. The ‘chocks’ of axes splitting lumber. The creak of cart wheels. The tinny clank of hammers at the smith’s forge. Smells of flower blossoms, heady scents of hewn wood, aromas of fresh-baked bread.

  All scents as familiar to me as the back of my hand, thanks to the land of Andeluvia.

  But how could I get past these debts to save it?

  Finally, the Wizard spoke up. His voice was low, hesitant.

  “Perchance…perchance there is a way. Yet it may well be one laden with hazard.”

  All eyes swiveled to focus on the centaur. Galen looked a little surprised at the sudden attention, but I couldn’t let his comment pass.

  “Galen, I’m grasping at straws here. I’m open to any idea, no matter how wild or ridiculous. And believe me, convincing a bunch of armor-plated warriors to play host to a bunch of insects is a hard one to top.”

  “My idea is hardly one to inspire nonsensicality, Dayna. Rather, it is speculation based upon a passing conversation back at the palace. Of course, one might consider the inherent risk involved in–”

  “Thou art making my head ache!” Shaw roared. “Speak plainly or be silent, Wizard!”

  Liam stamped a forehoof. “For once, I have to agree with our resident drake.”

  “Then I shall be as plain as I can.” Galen swallowed before continuing. “There may be a solution to our problem. I only heard about it in passing, yet there is an issue with the possible solution that bothe
rs me. To the point that I fear to tread further.”

  To the point that I fear to tread further. That was a new one to me. I’d never heard of Galen expressing fear of anything magical before.

  “And that issue is?” Liam asked, urging the Wizard on.

  The centaur scowled. “The solution involves Archmage-level spellcraft. Like Destry’s mind-altering magic, the risks involved are massive.”

  “Dost thou mean that one might perish upon this mission?” Shaw asked eagerly.

  “If that were the case, then I would assume you would happily volunteer. No, the risks are much higher. Namely, the destruction of our entire world as we understand it. And that is a rather steep price for speeding up the production of an alcoholic beverage.”

  I thought about it a moment. I respected Galen’s opinion when it came to anything related to magic. He had expertise in a field that I could never hope to truly understand. But the Wizard would never have raised my hopes just to dash them. He’d mulled it over more than he was letting on.

  And that meant that I needed to know more about this idea before dismissing it out of hand.

  “From what I understand,” I said slowly, “this revolves around a casual talk you had with someone. Someone at the palace, and someone who can practice that level of magic.”

  Galen nodded. “You strike in the gold, Dayna.”

  “Beyond that, all I can guess is that you’re not talking about Regent Magnus. He’s your uncle, after all. You’d hardly be worried about approaching him on any subject.”

  “Not since he proved to be friend rather than foe, no.”

  “Then there’s nothing left for us to do,” I concluded. “We’re heading back to the palace to follow up on this ‘passing conversation’. As we all agreed, time is at stake here.”

  The Wizard paused to see if he had any remaining objections stored up. When none appeared, he simply nodded. He made a pair of downward, slicing gestures with his hands. A ring of blue fire winked into existence around the four of us.