The Dragon Throne

by Chrys Cymri

  Fianna shook the bowl dry, then marched back to the unicorn. By spreading the branches of the bush, she was able to shield more of him from the sun. I used to know friendship, she found herself thinking as she sat down by his head. The unicorn’s breathing had eased, and he was sleeping, his hooves moving sometimes as he dreamed. Before I left Secondus. What came to change that?

  The unicorn murmured in his sleep. Fianna glanced down, marvelling at the bones underneath the dusty skin. Despite his size, his head still appeared delicate. The silver horn grew from the centre of the forehead, and she wondered how he carried the weight. The little she knew of unicorn lore told her that the horn could heal as well as wound. It wounded the hounds, she thought, and it has done nothing to heal him. She stretched out a finger to touch one spiral.

  She had a moment to feel the slick surface, cool and hard against her skin. Then her question seemed to repeat itself in her head. What came to change that?

  The mountainside swirled from view. She was once again twelve years old, standing in her aunt’s office as the woman studied her from behind a large desk. ‘I will try to understand this, Fianna. You offered to rub down the messenger’s horse?’

  ‘He had ridden a long way--’

  ‘A princess of the royal house was going to act the stable hand?’

  ‘I used to.’ She had lifted her chin. ‘At the castle stables.’

  ‘Only because it kept you quietly out of your father’s way.’ Sallah smiled. ‘He had to find another occupation for a superfluous heir, didn’t he?’

  ‘But that wasn’t the reason--’ Fianna had protested.

  ‘Was it not?’ Her aunt shrugged. ‘As Queen, you’ll have far more important tasks than trying to ingratiate yourself to messengers, knights, or anyone else beneath your station. Your time is far more important than theirs, so take theirs from them. Set them onto tasks, rather than dirty your own hands. You must learn to take whatever you need to secure the throne, Fianna. Take and keep whatever gives you power over allies or enemies.’

  ‘We’re destined to be friends.’ Fianna snatched her hand away, finger tingling from the brief contact, as the unicorn’s words broke through her memory. We shall see, unicorn, she thought grimly. We shall see.

  CHAPTER TEN

  For the next three days she remained almost constantly at the unicorn’s side, leaving him only for brief visits to the pool to refill her water skin. Having nothing better to offer, she crumbled her dry travel biscuits into water, mixing it into a paste which she patiently placed into his mouth and stroked his throat to encourage him to swallow. With the meagre food supplies running low, she cut back on her own meals, and ignored the rumble of her stomach.

  The enforced rest gave her much time to wonder why he was here. Too much time. She couldn’t help think that, despite all her efforts now, if he revealed that his purpose here were to attack dragons, she might have to defend her kin against him. Though I doubt that dragons need protection, she told herself. What can one unicorn do against the Family? She pushed the thoughts aside, intent on first restoring the unicorn to health.

  At night, she rested nearby. Her dreams were chaotic and confused. Bright images of tall trees, deep-running streams, and the throaty sound of equine laughter. I must be growing as fevered as the unicorn, she thought, and kept a small portion of the herbs back to spread on her own chest.

  The fourth night the visions became more specific. She was galloping across a flower-studded field, the ground flashing past her silver hooves. In the distance, a red dragon was following another unicorn, his shadow dark across the white withers. Silver claws reached out, dug deep into the delicate skin. She lunged desperately forward--

  And woke, gasping for air. Eyes still closed, she reached for her water skin and squeezed liquid over her hot face. ‘That’s it, unicorn,’ she announced. ‘Another of those dreams, and I’m leaving.’

  No response, not even the laboured breathing which had filled her ears for the last few days. The silence brought her upright. Fianna glanced beside her, and found only a depression to mark where a unicorn had lain. She touched the earth, still warm from body heat. He had only recently moved away.

  Fianna climbed to her feet. The bush had shaded her from dawn, and the sun was already half way into the sky. She felt groggy and dirty, and annoyed that the unicorn would simply get up and walk away. And to think I fed him most of my travel rations, she thought. He can look after himself from this point on.

  The waterfall roared in her ears as she marched to the pool. Fianna bent down, washed her hands, then scooped up some of the cool liquid to drink. She dried her hands on her trousers, and grimaced as they came away dirtier than before washing. The idea of a naked bath expanded to one with clothes, since she had not brought either a change of shirt or trousers with her for what was meant to be a short absence from court.

  The waterfall, she saw as she followed around the bank, fell raggedly from an outcropping twenty feet above the pool. A small cave was hollowed out behind the fall of water, the floor constantly dampened by spray as part of the water hit a shelf before tumbling down into the pool.

  A large creature moved within the shelter. Fianna halted. The unicorn stepped out into a small section of the waterfall, his horn sluicing the liquid into bright drops which sparkled in the sun. Then he turned his head, allowing the water to splash against his back. Clear liquid was turned brown and red, coloured by the mixture of dust, blood, and healing herbs which coated his skin.

  A transformation took place before Fianna’s eyes. As the current cleansed his body, so too did the unicorn’s spirit seem to return to him. He slowly straightened under the water’s force. The coat was revealed as gleaming white, the long mane and tail only slightly darker. The hooves were silver, same as the spiralling horn. Although he was already taller than most of the horses in the castle stables, he still showed a leanness which promised still more growth before maturity. Despite being heavier set than the saddle mounts, he moved with a grace which made him seem as light as a messenger horse. If he were a stud stallion, Fianna found herself thinking, his owner could demand the highest price for his services.

  Without realising it, she’d been moving towards the waterfall as she studied him. Sudden drops of water across her face brought her back to herself. She paused on the edge of the cave. Sensing her, the unicorn swung his head out of the spray. Dark eyes met hers. Giving her a grave bow, he backed away into part of the stronger current. Fianna followed, stepping onto the part of the ledge he had vacated. Unable to suppress a gasp at the chill of the water, she forced herself to hold still for a long moment, letting the flow carry away the surface dirt of her skin and clothing.

  A sudden change in water direction made her open her eyes, blinking away rivulets of spray. The unicorn had moved closer again, his horn directing water away from his own deep-set eyes. He flicked his head again, and another jet of water splashed against her chest. Fianna froze, for a moment unable to accept what her instincts were telling her. The beast was teasing her. She, a daughter of the royal house and enemy to his kingdom.

  The unicorn either didn’t know or didn’t care. He slipped his horn through the fall, sending sparkling drops in a line from her neck to her boots. Fianna narrowed her eyes. Then she scooped her hand through the water, splashing his forelegs in return.

  The unicorn snorted, and from her recent dreams Fianna recognised the tone of laughter. She suddenly grinned, surprising herself. So, the unicorn thought he had the better of her, did he? She whisked both arms rapidly through the spray, dousing his neck and chest with water.

  He laughed again. Then he reared, and whipped his head back and forth. Fianna tried to duck, failed. A wave of water doused her from head to foot, more thoroughly than the natural fall had managed. Even her socks were now wet, and the leather of her boots was soaked through. Laughing herself, she tried to step back, and her heart skipped a beat as her boot soles slipped against the wet rocks. Her arms waved wildly as she be
gan to topple from the shelf.

  The unicorn’s head snaked towards her. Teeth dug deep into her tunic, the material ripping as he pulled her back. The mixed cottons and leathers held, and for a moment Fianna’s feet dangled above the ground as the unicorn lifted her back into the cave. He carefully lowered her, and she stood unsteadily, his muzzle so close to her face that his grass-scented breath was warm and sweet against her cheeks.

  With an elaborate bow, he stepped back. Touching his horn to the rocky floor, he said in a deep, quiet voice, ‘To you who saved my life, my life is now due.’

  ‘Which means what?’ Fianna pulled her hands through her hair, sweeping water from the locks.

  ‘Which means I am now in your service.’ The unicorn raised his head. ‘Or that I should be. But I have a duty older than that to you. I can only promise to serve you until I’m able to fulfil that responsibility. For now, I give you my current name. I am the Prancer, son of the Dancer. My sire is Herd Stallion of the People of the Trees.’

  A unicorn, in her service. Fianna imagined herself striding through the streets of Secondus with such a prize. Not only accepted by the dragons, but served by a unicorn. I can use this one, she thought. He could help me hold my throne.

  Yes, use everything, use everyone. The small voice made her suddenly uncomfortable under the trusting gaze of the unicorn. Nothing is important but power, is it? Nothing is important but being Queen. That’s what your aunt taught you. But is she right?

  Fianna shrugged the voice away. She would be Queen, and she would prepare her kingdom against attack by the Third Kingdom. And if a unicorn helped her win against her enemies, that was his own choice. She couldn’t help it if he felt obligated to her. ‘Then tell me, Prancer of the Dancer, what are you doing on the Sacred Mountains?’

  ‘I’m attempting to fulfil the duty older than my duty to you.’ He stopped himself, pointed his horn at her dripping clothing. ‘I’ll leave you to cleanse yourself while I graze.’

  Fianna found herself suddenly alone, the unicorn moving away through the cave. With not even so much as a by your leave, she reflected. He may be at my service, but he’s far from servile. Although it should make her angry, the thought made her smile.

  She stripped her clothing and stepped back out into the spray. Then she washed shirt and trousers as best she could. After debating the level of modesty suitable in front of a unicorn, she compromised by slipping back into undergarments and boots. Carrying the rest of her clothing over her arms, she passed through the cave, and walked around the pool to the patch of grass growing near the bank. She spread shirt and trousers across several large boulders.

  The Prancer was nibbling at the grass. She nodded approvingly. He obviously realised that sudden masses of food, after several days of near starvation, would disrupt his system. ‘You’ve recovered suddenly.’

  He lifted his head, swallowed. ‘I am a unicorn.’

  ‘And that’s supposed to explain it?’

  ‘Yes.’ His nose wrinkled suddenly. ‘What have you been feeding me?’

  ‘My travel rations.’

  The Prancer snorted. ‘Grass tastes far better.’

  ‘Nearly all of my travel rations,’ Fianna said with heavy emphasis.

  The sarcasm seemed lost on the unicorn. He was bending his head around, studying the red lines left by the bites on his hind leg. ‘Will the wounds leave scars?’

  Fianna found herself laughing. ‘You nearly lost not only your leg but your life to infection, and you worry about a few scars?’

  ‘Certainly.’ He tested the leg, raising the hoof and slamming it back into the ground. ‘Any unicorn would.’

  ‘Then unicorns are very vain.’

  ‘We were born to the Land as the first and the most beautiful of all her children.’ The Prancer spoke matter-of-factly, as if merely stating a truth known to all. ‘Have you never heard the tale of the first unicorn?’

  She lowered herself down onto a clean patch of ground. ‘No. But I have the feeling that you’ll tell me.’

  ‘You will be honoured by the telling,’ he said gravely, but a gentle snort convinced her that he did have a sense of ironic humour. ‘As was the tale told to me, so I now tell it to you. Hear then of the Land, long before she had many children to grace her shores. Along in the midst of the great sea she laid. There were few beyond the grasses, which are her dress, and the trees which are her hair, to stir from the winds which are her breath.

  ‘For many passings of the moons was the Land pleased with her near solitude. But from those which passed along her shores, dancing in the waters, did she learn of her solitude, and with that knowledge solitude passed into loneliness, and loneliness into longing. She desired more children to wander over her valleys and mountains, children to sleep in the coolness of the forests and stir in the heights of her hills.

  ‘Her longing gave her strength. To the bright stars did she reach. Far were they, and cold the distance, but she bore both as she sought for one which could father her more children. After many more moons of searching, she felt a willing answer. Down to her bosom did she pull the cold seed of life, thrusting it deep within her bowels.

  ‘From the chasm did the first unicorn struggle, planting hooves onto the grasses charred from the power which had passed into the Land. She was the first Painter. At her flanks was the first Dancer, and the sacred twins were followed by the twenty of the first herd. To the forests of the west they travelled, to become the People of the Trees, and to be known as the First Kingdom.’

  Fianna pulled a long stalk of grass, and nibbled the sweet end. The Prancer had closed his eyes, easily repeating the story he must have first heard as a colt. She wondered how much of the tale he actually believed himself.

  ‘Next followed the dragons. The first clutch climbed onto the Land, their claws wounding the soft soil. They gave voice and sprang into flight, speeding to the mountains in the east. There did they find rock which could bear their weight, and they became the Second Kingdom.

  ‘Last to rise were the humans. The Land knew that her first two families would need protection as they learned the ways of the Land. So to the humans did she give the guardianship of unicorn and dragon, creating the Third and Fourth Kingdoms.

  ‘And so did the Land become mother, and we her children will worship her evermore.’

  Fianna waited. The Prancer opened his eyes, met her gaze, obviously finished. ‘We don’t have any stories like that,’ she said, pre-empting his question. ‘At least, none I’ve ever heard.’

  He snorted. ‘Do you never wonder whence you came?’

  ‘Not really.’ She shrugged. ‘I’ve always had more important things on my mind. Besides, don’t tell me you believe all that.’

  The Prancer twisted his head, and polished the long horn on one shiny flank. ‘I used to,’ he admitted, looked back at her. ‘But, now... I came across a half-circle of stones on my journey here. The Land tried to speak to me there, and I was unable to understand her. I do know that none of the kingdoms raised the stones. Something more ancient than ourselves once wandered the Land.’

  ‘Whatever they were, they’re gone now.’ Fianna walked over to her clothes. They were drying satisfactorily, if stiffly, in the sun. ‘You haven’t told me why you’re on the Sacred Mountains.’

  ‘I will tell you.’ He straightened. ‘May I first have the knowledge of your name?’

  So, he didn’t know who she was, after all. Fianna busied herself with pulling on damp shirt and trousers. He might know the names of the royal family. What would he do, if he knew one of the enemy blood stood before him? ‘I am Rosemary, the daughter of horse breeders in the Fourth Kingdom,’ she lied, borrowing the identity of a squire in the castle employ. ‘I seek counsel with one of the Family.’

  ‘I too seek a dragon.’ The clipped tone brought Fianna’s gaze back to him. The Prancer’s neck was stiff in anger, but not at her. ‘A red dragon, who attacked the People, and killed my milk-brother. He carried away with him part of
my brother’s horn, deep in his eye. I must find that piece and bring it to his grave, so that my brother may be given his second name and travel thus enriched to his next life.’

  Fianna understood little of what the unicorn said. At the mention of the dragon’s colour, and the unicorn horn, she was only just able to keep her hand from rising to the small pouch lying between her breasts. ‘What will you do,’ she asked casually, ‘when the dragon returns the horn to you?’

  ‘I will leave your side, and return to the trees of the People.’

  She found herself believing him. Honesty seemed to shine from him, as bright as his horn. ‘And if the dragon is unwilling or unable to return the horn?’

  The Prancer raised his head. ‘If he is unwilling, I must challenge him. If unable, then I will continue to seek the horn.’

  That made her choice simple. Give the Prancer the horn, and she would lose him. Keep the horn secret, and he would remain at her service. Besides, she thought, the dragon gave the horn to me. Why should I relinquish it now? ‘So you’re looking for a dragon. So am I. We might as well continue together.’

  The Prancer bent his head in agreement. ‘Gladly will I continue at your side, Rosemary of horse breeders.’

  Fianna hid a wince. ‘Demand the truth from others, but as for yourself, use deception whenever expedient.’ Her aunt’s voice echoed through her mind. ‘As Queen, you will need to use it often.’ ‘Until we come near the dragons. We must present ourselves separately then. Agreed?’

  ‘You know more of dragon lore than I.’

  More than he knew. ‘Well, that’s settled, then. We’ll start tomorrow.’

  The unicorn snorted. ‘I’m ready to begin now.’

  ‘No.’ Fianna leaned back against the boulder. ‘You’re not to strain that leg yet.’