The Conspiracy of Unicorns

by Michael Angel

“Well, you will need special gear, yes. It is cold in those woods for corporeal beings, no? And unless you intend to fight your way into the Deliberati, it might be best to ask to be let inside peacefully.”

  “I’m with you so far, Destry.”

  The pooka considered what to say for a moment.

  “There is one more thing that I suggested, in order to gain admittance. There is a ritual the local tribespeople perform to request entrée. If you follow it, Wayfarer might be more inclined to let us in.”

  And Destry told us about it. Mostly, it wasn’t anything more than a ‘kneel and bow’ thing. But I did need to wear something different. I let out a long-suffering sigh.

  “Fine,” I grumbled. “Let’s call Percival back. Maybe there’s a theatre group that doesn’t need a spare costume.”

  Great.

  But at least they’d be leaving my hair alone this time.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Back in Los Angeles, the temperature had been edging ever closer to the three-digit mark as summer advanced. Even back at Fitzwilliam’s capital, afternoons already got hot enough in the Royal Rose Garden to make one sweat. But not where I was.

  No, with her luck, Dayna Chrissie got to draw the short straw again.

  I’d just learned the hard way that winter didn’t only live in the morgue. It thrived out in these dark woods. The mages that lived in the ‘Everwinter Glade’ might not have been creative, but they were accurate.

  All around us, bare tree branches swayed in the wind. That same frigid breeze kicked up powdery ankle-deep drifts of snow into stinging slaps across the face. Capping it all was a featureless, iron-gray sky straight out of an icy winter afternoon back in Illinois.

  “This is a cheery place,” Galen remarked wryly. “It rather reminds me of the Fayleene Woods in winter. After Sirrahon had destroyed it.”

  “And yet it’s much, much different,” Liam murmured.

  The stag’s ears flicked nervously, and his nose twitched as he sniffed the air. Shaw also had his beak turned skyward, golden eagle eyes slit against the wind. As far as I could tell, the main similarity was the teeth-chattering chill. Had Galen not invoked the same cold-dulling spell he’d used on our journey to the Vale of the Seraphine, my toes would’ve already been looking at a case of freezer burn.

  “What’s different?” I asked. “The trees?”

  But the Protector of the Forest didn’t answer. Instead, Shaw lowered his beak and stepped into the silence.

  “I cannot speak for thine fayleene,” he said. “Yet I hear none of the sounds I expect in a forest, save that of tree branches quaking in the wind. No winter foxes, no birds, no animals at all.”

  Liam slowly swung his antlers back and forth, as if they were an old television antenna or radar set. His cute cervine eyes widened in astonishment. Finally, he added his observations to Shaw’s words.

  “My powers as the Protector connect me to the woodlands. Any woodlands. Yet here, there’s more than a lack of birds. Of animals. I can’t sense anything at all in this place, not even worms in the ground!” Liam shuddered. “The very earth under my hooves feels strange, as if it’s been disconnected from the rest of the world.”

  Destry shifted to corporeal form, planting hoofprints in a nearby drift. “Perhaps that was the intent, mon ami. The Deliberati seem to have cut themselves off from the world out here.”

  “The need to withdraw into a hermit-like existence is not unique,” Galen pointed out. “At least, not among members of my profession.”

  “Which way, Destry?” I asked, as I adjusted the straps of my mask against the wind.

  “Straight ahead,” the pooka replied.

  “Right. Well, no matter how strange the surroundings, we’re not doing any good just standing here,” I declared. “Let’s head out, following Destry’s lead.”

  A chorus of crunching came from hooves, paws, and human boots treading through the snow. Of course, the wind picked just that moment to swing around and blow right into our faces. The pooka, fayleene, and griffin didn’t seem to mind one bit. Galen had to keep turning his head to wipe away snow crystals from his eyes and lips. It wasn’t much better for me.

  According to Destry, the local tribespeople dressed in animal masks and skins when doing their ‘kneel and request entry’ thing. I suggested that we just bring along the newly refurbished Grand Master Mothball, stick him out in a clearing, and cast a ‘throw speech’ spell on it or something. Galen shot that one down, explaining that, not only was my idea puerile, he had no idea how to cast a spell that mimicked ventriloquism.

  So, we went with Plan B. Which involved me playing dress up.

  I still thought Plan B sucked.

  Percival had brought me the remnants of the last costumed dance held five or six years ago under the reign of the Good King Benedict. I’d done my best to cobble together an outfit from those scraps. This included a mask with fox or dog ears and a matching muddy brown outfit that mimicked short fur as much as cloth with a napped finish could.

  In my opinion, the effect was ruined by the fanciful touches given to it by the makers. The side of the ‘fox’ mask was a spray of painted turkey feathers, while the rest of the clothing had been embellished with frills and fringes that probably looked very nice at a party. Now, after lying crumpled in a chest for half a decade and then put through a freezing windstorm, they looked less than perfect.

  Okay, I was being generous there. Frankly, my getup would’ve gotten me booed off a vaudeville stage. Or laughed off Skid Row.

  We’d been walking for only a few minutes when Destry stopped and pawed the ground.

  “I sense another being approaching,” he said. “It is he who I spoke of before. Master Wayfarer.”

  “I hear him coming,” Liam confirmed. After a sniff of the air, he added, “Equine. Odd. Definitely not a scent I’ve smelled before.”

  “Given how rare it is to see one, I’m not surprised.” Galen scanned the woods ahead of us. “Yet what a great moment this is! Surely the Deliberati will have much to tell me once we are let inside.”

  “That is not an assured thing,” Destry cautioned. “Let us not take chances. Back away from Dayna, let her speak first.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want to do the talking?” I asked, as my friends faded back a dozen steps or more behind me. “I mean, you do know this creature, right?”

  “We spoke at length, yes, but I was never granted permission to enter the domain of the Deliberati. Perhaps you shall have better luck.”

  Yeah, I thought sullenly. With my track record, that wasn’t exactly a sure thing either.

  The pooka faded out to insubstantiality with a faint whoosh. I took a seat on the ground, doing my best to ignore how much it felt like sitting on a block of glacier ice. Galen’s spell warded off the worst of the cold, but my goosebumps still went all the way down.

  I waited.

  The crunch of hooves on snow brought my eyes up. A splotch of brown and cream materialized from out of a swirl of flurries. As they drew closer, they resolved into a sight that took my breath away.

  It was a unicorn. A real, honest-to-god, unicorn!

  My heart beat a bit faster, and I suddenly had a vision of myself as a young girl about to meet her fabled rock star crush. It sounded silly, of course. I hung around enchanted fey deer, centaurs, and griffins, after all. I’d met and befriended (or fought) dragons, wyverns, demons, and phoenixes. Why would one more heraldic creature mean so much?

  Maybe it simply came down to the mythos surrounding this particular being, the exclusivity and uniqueness of a creature so few had ever seen. Even in Andeluvia, unicorns were special, rarely sighted creatures.

  Just like any other little girl, I’d gone through a phase of loving pretty much anything equine. I’d even had a poster of a snow-white unicorn running across an electric blue grid on my bedroom wall. It had stayed up there until I’d gotten old enough to start thinking about boys as something other than ‘icky’.

 
; Well, at least Andeluvian unicorns don’t have the same lore as Earthly ones, my brain pointed out. Because you are a heck of a long way from being a virgin anymore.

  Another snow flurry hid the unicorn from my sight for a moment and I turned my head, wiping the mask’s eyeholes free of accumulated ice crystals. When I looked up again, I almost gasped.

  The unicorn stood right before me, his breath steaming in the frosty air.

  He was roughly Destry’s height and build, though an almost perfect opposite in color. Where the pooka was black on black with yellow eyes, the unicorn’s coat contained shades of lustrous white. His mane was a pale, creamy yellow that reminded me of lemon chiffon cake. His eyes were jet black and inscrutable. And the stallion’s horn was a majestic spiral of ivory that glowed with magical sparks at its very tip.

  But that wasn’t all. He wore the last thing I’d expect to find on such a creature: the remnants of riding tack. I didn’t see a saddle, but a fanciful version of a bridle covered the top of his head. Ribbon-thin reins draped across his back, while a wide, woven leather collar clung to his broad, muscular chest. The whole effect was fairy-tale entrancing. I had to pull myself out of my amazement and reminded myself to speak my lines.

  “Great and merciful Master Wayfarer,” I said humbly, “one of your servants seeks entrance into the halls beyond. I come with peaceful intent, and my need is great.”

  The unicorn didn’t comment. His hooves made a dulled mix of crunches and clops through the snow as he slowly paced a tight circuit around me. Finally, he came to a stop right where he’d begun his walk.

  A deep, gruff voice, at odds with the unicorn’s elegant appearance, came from his mouth.

  “Well, I am simply dumbfounded,” Master Wayfarer admitted. “What ridiculous manner of human are you supposed to be?”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Even after all the time I’d spent in the magical world of Andeluvia, certain things never ceased to amaze me. For example, that some beings, ones that resembled Earthly animals, had human intelligence. Or that, thanks to magic, multiple species could converse in a common language.

  But topping it all? The fact that a non-human entity could recognize when I was dressed in the equivalent of a medieval rummage sale.

  The cream-and-chiffon unicorn who stood before me waited for my response.

  “Well,” I began intelligently, “I’m supposed to be one of the local tribespeople, asking for entrance into the Everwinter Glade.”

  A disbelieving snort blew from the equine’s muzzle, alongside a puff of his steamy breath.

  “If you were from the local tribe,” he stated, “then you would know they use rendered bear fat to make both their real and fake fur flat and shiny. I don’t smell anything like that on you.”

  “Um…maybe the local hair salon was out of bear fat?”

  That got another snort. “Spare me. Enough with this charade, I see your associates well enough.”

  I turned and nodded to my friends, where they’d stood off behind some nearby trees. Galen trotted over eagerly, followed by my other three companions.

  “Master Wayfarer,” I said, as I got to my feet, “I’m not exactly from around here. But I am asking for entrance into the Glade, for my friends and I are in great need.”

  Wayfarer snorted another steamy breath in a long-suffering sigh. Maybe I was imagining it, but to me his voice had a sour tone. If anything, he sounded like a mildly disgruntled clerk who’d been left on the night shift in the Customer Complaint department.

  “I suppose you want to tap into the ‘boundless wisdom’ of the eldest wizards, am I right?” he asked. “To sit before the Deliberation and imbibe the waters of their knowledge?”

  “With all seriousness, yes!” Galen exclaimed, stamping his hoof with a dull thud. “It is not for lack of reason that a group of magical practitioners is called a shrewdness of wizards!”

  “Hmph,” Wayfarer replied, tossing his mane. “Well, clever is as clever does. But if you wish to drink freely of all the nonsense from this so-called ‘shrewdness’, then I won’t stop you. Come along, then.”

  With that, the unicorn turned away from us and forged ahead into the wind. My friends exchanged startled glances with me. They knew how my luck usually ran, even if I did have a fayleene on my side.

  Had requesting entry really been that easy?

  I limped after Master Wayfarer until I worked the kinks out of my gait. It took a few steps, as planting my butt on the frozen ground had stiffened up my axle. Luckily, I was able to iron out my pace and come alongside him.

  “Ah…you’re just going to let us in, then?” I asked. I threw a quick glance back at Destry, who followed along with the rest of my friends in the unicorn’s wake. “I mean, I’d heard that there was a magical barrier involved. One so strong that nothing can penetrate it.”

  “You heard right,” came the curt reply. “I could count the number of creatures who can force or magic their way through on my hooves.”

  I cast a quick glance down. The unicorn had solid hooves like Galen, not cloven ones like Liam. That limited the number of beings to four or less.

  I cleared my throat. “Do you mind if I ask why?”

  He shrugged, which made his chest collar flex. Once again, I got the impression that this creature’s attitude was resigned at best. In fact, he reminded me of any long-term employee who’d gotten bored with his job.

  “The old fustylugs gave me orders. If Dame Chrissie arrives on the doorstep, allow her and anyone accompanying her inside.”

  That stopped me.

  It made sense, I supposed. Some, if not all, of the Deliberati knew about me and my friends. The fact that they’d named us when we pushed our way in back at the Guild Hall proved that. Perhaps they expected me to keep on pushing until we located them.

  “Well,” I said offhandedly, “I’m glad that you got those orders. Since my, ah, costume didn’t pass muster.”

  The unicorn threw me a critical eye as we walked on. When he next spoke, I noted a distinctly chilly tone.

  “My job is to keep the world outside the Glade at bay, so those inside the magic barrier can pursue their studies without interruption. If I hadn’t been given orders, I’d have lit you and your friends up like torches from a quarter league away. Is that clear?”

  Both Galen and Liam scowled at those words. Shaw snapped his beak in a way that hinted at mayhem. But this creature was cooperating with us, and I didn’t want to change his mind.

  “Yes, that’s crystal clear,” I assured him.

  While we continued walking, I took off each piece of my impromptu costume set and stuck it in Galen’s saddle bag. Then I retrieved my gray cloak and bundled myself into it before I turned blue. Eventually, Wayfarer led us to the top of a small rise. All around us, the bare branches of the trees swayed and creaked in the wind.

  “We have arrived,” the unicorn announced.

  I scanned the area around us, but saw nothing special about this spot. The world stretched away on all sides in a sea of white and brown. Galen looked confused, while Liam and Shaw shook their heads. They didn’t sense anything either.

  Master Wayfarer lowered his head, speaking a phrase in the same manner as Galen when the centaur cast an enchantment.

  “Apirre sumus in domum este sunam!”

  The shiny tip of his horn gleamed red, like a hot steel point. Then, with a heavenly-sounding choral AHHHHHHHHH, the ghostly outlines of stone buildings shimmered into being not twenty paces in front of us.

  In the space of three heartbeats, the outlines filled in with color and depth. Within moments structures appeared, all built from slabs of white rock shot through with veins of gold and lapis. None of the buildings were more than two stories high, but I spotted flat-topped decks atop at least a half-dozen of the roofs. Each deck sported its own refracting telescope, all pointed faithfully towards the heavens.

  Sparkling gray projections thrust up from behind the buildings. Judging by the distance,
they radiated from the center of the small town. As best as I could tell, these were the bare, silver-barked branches from a single gigantic tree.

  The chill that had been only partially masked by Galen’s spellcraft vanished. As the buffeting winds faded to dead calm the air itself felt strangely pleasant. Charged, somehow. Tingly, like a sip of soda against the tongue.

  “Well, let’s go, then,” Wayfarer grumbled, and we set out again at a slow walk.

  “Fascinating,” Galen murmured, as he moved along at my side. “I’ve never come across a concealment spell so detailed, so utterly…”

  “Complete,” Liam filled in for him. “It is astounding, Wizard. All my senses were confounded. Every single one. I must admit, my fur is standing on end, as if a storm were gathering, charging the air for the lightning.”

  “Aye,” Shaw agreed. “Enchantments lie heavy o’er this place, that much is for sure.”

  Before I could add my two cents, there was movement from within the revealed town. Slender forms in cream, brown, blue, orange and a rainbow’s worth of yet more colors emerged from the buildings. The clop of hooves and the crunch of snow reached our ears as they approached.

  The girlish part of my heart skipped a beat.

  We were being greeted by a whole herd of unicorns.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Greetings to you all,” came a resonant, vaguely familiar man’s voice. “Dame Chrissie, we know of your talent for…well, we shall call it persistence. Welcome to the Everwinter Grove, for we did half-expect you.”

  “The half of us with powers for prophecy, that is,” came a second familiar, if weedier, male voice. “The rest of us were a little surprised. Master Wayfarer seldom allows outsiders to get this close without crisping them.”

  My brain couldn’t figure out why the voices sounded familiar. At least, not yet. It was stuck fast on matching the voices to the equine faces. The first had come from a marigold-colored unicorn stallion, while the second speaker had a brown mane and deep periwinkle coat.