by Chrys Cymri
The Prancer watched the man stride away, then turned back to the tent, troubled.
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Sixteen riders in grey and black halted outside the gates of Primus in the early dawn. The woman at their head tilted her head back, the hood of her dark cloak sliding away from coppery hair. She smiled, turned to speak to the older woman at her left. The command was spread down the line of knights, and they followed her example, removing drab cloaks to reveal bright silks of fiery red and gleaming gold.
Gregson kneed his mount forward. ‘Once again, Your Majesty, I ask you to reconsider.’
Fianna tossed her cloak to Jeremy. ‘We are the Queen of the Fourth Kingdom, King’s Champion, not some peasant begging the King’s notice. We will ride into his city in a manner worthy of our station. Ready, Colonel?’
Pealla’s grin expressed her approval of the Queen’s decision. ‘We are ready, Your Majesty.’
Jeremy unfurled the royal banner, golden dragon against red background, tassels dancing in the breeze. He rode to the front of the procession, Gregson at his side. Fianna glanced at Pealla, catching the look of fierce pride as the knight watched her son take his place. Then her gelding was carrying her forward, aware of his own place in the entourage. The Prancer paced at her side, then the knights followed in pairs behind, relaxed but alert.
They paused briefly at the Sign outside Primus. Fianna stared up at the silver writing, hoping that it would speak to her. When it remained silent, she took a deep breath, and nodded to her honour guard to continue to the city.
The gates were already open for the morning. Guards started at the colours of the riders approaching, but drew back from the defences as Gregson shouted a command. The sound of horse hooves were magnified as they left behind earth for stone, the cobbles on the streets of Primus no different than those in Secondus.
Fianna stared straight ahead as they marched, ignoring the startled looks of the people they passed. She longed to explore this city on her own, learning the similarities and differences to her own beloved Secondus. Pealla, at least, was free from the necessary arrogance of a ruler, and Fianna knew she could count on her colonel recounting the important details to her later.
The road up to the castle twisted several times. But the path never changed. Was it then true? Fianna wondered. Did the streets of Primus remain fixed for all? She had to admit that the city felt like a soulless place.
The castle rose ahead of them. Fianna noted the high walls, the guard posts, and remembered what the General had said to her. This castle was built for defence. Heavy gates of solid metal creaked open as they approached, revealing a wide courtyard. A single woman awaited their approach at the main entrance to the castle.
Fianna rode up to her, remaining mounted as she stared down at the older woman. ‘Fianna, Queen of the Fourth Kingdom, Keeper of the Dragon Throne,’ she said curtly. ‘Where is Anton?’
The woman bowed before replying. ‘The King awaits you inside, Your Majesty.’ Her hesitancy told Fianna that the woman was well aware of the insult Anton had given by not greeting a fellow monarch in person. ‘May I arrange stabling for your mounts?’
Fianna smiled. ‘We have ridden thus far to meet the King. We can go further.’ She prodded the gelding with her heels. The woman ducked to one side as Fianna rode forward, up into the castle proper. Carpets laid out on the entrance hall muffled her horse’s hooves. The woman hurried inside and past her, and Fianna set the gelding after her. Behind she could hear the sounds of steel shoes ripping into wool, and she nodded, satisfied.
A man stepped into the hallway. His woollen shirt of blue and silver hung loosely on thin shoulders. What remained of his hair needed trimming. Fianna found herself disliking the man even before he said, ‘Anton, King of the Third Kingdom and Keeper of the Unicorn Throne. Why didn’t you leave the horses outside?’
‘We rode forth to greet the King of the Third Kingdom,’ Fianna retorted. ‘Now that he deigns to reveal himself, we will release our mounts.’
She dismounted easily, draping the reins over the pommel of her saddle. Her knights followed suit. Then she slapped her gelding on the shoulders. He snorted, startled, and backed into Jeremy’s mare. The horses started milling, tails flicking over furniture, noses knocking against panelling. Fianna listened to the sounds of steady destruction behind her, her eyes fixed on Anton.
Servants hurried into the hall, grabbing at bridles, cursing as heavy hooves trod onto slippered feet. Anton winced. Then he gave Fianna a nod. ‘Your Majesty, welcome to Primus.’ He offered his hand. Fianna shook it, noting the absence of callouses. Anton had the hands of a scholar. ‘I have a fire in the hearth.’
‘May the fire light the hearts as well as the bodies of those who dwell therein.’ Fianna followed him into a nearby room, the Prancer at her side, the knights behind.
The Prancer snorted as they halted in the long chamber, several tables indicating that it was meant for dining. Fianna stopped admiring the intricate carvings on the wood panelling to glance at him, wondering at the note of surprise. ‘There is a strange scent in the air,’ he told her quietly. His ears drew back, low against his head. ‘And I don’t like it.’
Fianna shrugged. ‘Whatever his magic, we are safe in here. He is bound by guest law.’
‘And I have my own law to consider.’ The unicorn stepped away from her, his head high. ‘Your Majesty, I would speak with you.’
Anton turned slowly, one hand playing nervously with something in his left pocket. ‘Yes, unicorn?’
The Prancer visibly hesitated, obviously not expecting Anton’s curt response. ‘Although I have put myself into the service of Queen Fianna,’ he said slowly, ‘I’ve not turned against the Third Kingdom. I have not betrayed the Keeper of the Unicorn Throne.’
Anton’s teeth flashed in a brief smile. ‘Do you think it matters who you ally yourself with, unicorn?’ Then the smile was gone. ‘Queen Fianna, it is we who must speak.’
Fianna met the light eyes, making an effort to hide her distaste. ‘My knights have ridden far, King. Perhaps you would be so kind as to provide them with refreshment. Then I will be pleased to hear why you have requested my presence.’
Anton nodded at Gregson, standing nearby. ‘Send servants in with food and drink.’ Then he glanced back at Fianna. ‘Now, while your knights eat, I will show you alone why I asked you here.’ He stepped forward, opening another door. The room beyond was dark.
Servants appeared, bearing trays of meat and cheese. Metal clattered against wood, almost masking the quieter sound of swords creaking in scabbards. Pealla strode forward, bending to speak softly into Fianna’s ear. ‘Your Majesty, I like this not.’
‘I will go with you, King,’ Fianna answered. ‘Accompanied by the other one of royal blood in our company, the Lord Unicorn.’
Anton shrugged. ‘Very well.’
The Colonel’s face reflected her doubts, but she said nothing more as Anton led the way into the next room. Fianna glanced back once as she followed, finding the knights studying the wine. Her own throat was dry, and she hoped that Anton might have a flagon to offer her inside.
The sudden sound of steel sliding loose from leather to air made her twist back. Armed knights were pouring into the room from yet another hidden door, swords raised. Then the door shut behind her. The Prancer reared, bucked, his hindhooves thudding against the wood. But the door held.
Fianna lowered her hand to her own sword, then found Anton’s pale face in the dim lit room. ‘I demand that you let me see my knights.’
‘Certainly.’ He made a vague motion in the air. A square window shimmered into view overhead. No, not a window, Fianna corrected herself as she studied the scene. She seemed to be looking down onto the heads of the fighting knights, as if she stood above them. Their voices were clear, Pealla shouting curses and orders, glass smashing and wood splintering. Several of her party were down, blood mingling with spilled wine.
‘Let us go,’ Fianna told Anton fiercely. ‘
Or I will draw my sword against you.’
‘I’ll allow them to leave,’ he said calmly. ‘If you promise to remain.’
Fianna glared at the man, angry at his treachery, her naive faith. Then she drew her sword and presented it to him hilt first. ‘Now, call off your knights.’
‘Squadron, withdraw,’ Anton commanded loudly.
‘And my knights also,’ Fianna added, watching the window.
Both sides obeyed, eyes narrowed, swords still at the ready. Fianna counted seven of her guards standing. Several others were groaning on the floor. ‘Colonel Pealla?’ she called.
Jeremy’s face turned upwards, obviously searching for the source of her voice. ‘She is down and injured, Your Majesty.’
Fianna felt her heart squeeze painfully. ‘Listen to me carefully, Jeremy. All of you are to leave Primus. At once. Take both our wounded and our dead with you.’
One of her knights came to Jeremy’s side. ‘No, Your Majesty. We will not leave you.’
‘We command it,’ Fianna said sharply. ‘Go. Now.’
Slowly, unwillingly, they obeyed. Pealla was one of those carried, her face pale, her armour streaked with blood. Once the door had closed behind them, Fianna turned back to Anton. ‘You have no honour, but I will go with you.’
The Prancer stepped forward, his hoof striking the ground. His voice rang through the small room. ‘In the name of the First Kingdom, and the bond which was sealed by blood at the beginning of time, I demand the release of Queen Fianna and her people.’
The response was low, mocking laughter. ‘The beginning of time. And do you know how long ago that was, unicorn? Four hundred years. That’s how long we’ve been on this planet. Only four hundred years.’
‘How do you know this?’ Fianna asked. She waved at the strange window above them. ‘More of your magic?’
‘Oh, that’s not magic,’ Anton said derisively. ‘There’s no such thing as magic. We’ve been living in a dark age, ever since our crash onto this planet and until now, when one of the survivors’ descendants has finally thought to ask why the castle was built on top of such a symmetrical hill. But I’ll show you.’ He lifted his head, then commanded, ‘Basement.’
The room suddenly shifted under their feet. Fianna staggered back to a wall, holding onto the strange, smooth surface as her stomach rose into her mouth. The floor seemed to be dropped away, carrying her down with it. The Prancer half-reared, whickering in surprise. Then he straddled his legs, breathing heavily.
‘It’s called an elevator,’ Anton said casually. ‘I’ve only found one other in the castle, but it’s been disused for generations. The cooks store vegetables in the car.’
The room stopped moving. Fianna swallowed. Then she walked to the unicorn, touching him gently on one shoulder. ‘And what’s the point of having a moving room?’
‘It takes you from the upper level of the castle to the lower.’ Anton pressed the wall. ‘I’ll now show you a sight few have seen.’
The door opened again. The long dining chamber was gone. Fianna shivered as cold air rushed inside, then blinked in the strange, intense light flooding through the opening. As her eyes became accustomed to the harsh illumination, she saw that a large cavern stretched out before them.
Anton strode away, his boots clacking against hard stone. Fianna glanced at the Prancer, and frowned in concern. The unicorn was still taking deep, shuddering breaths, his eyes bulging in discomfort. ‘My Champion,’ she said softly, ‘I am in need of your protection.’
He turned his head towards her. ‘Fianna,’ he said in a strangled tone, ‘there is something out there--wrong. I felt it when I first came to Primus. Now, here, it is much worse. I--I cannot--’
‘You can, and you will,’ Fianna said firmly, fighting back her own foreboding. ‘Didn’t you hear me? I need you.’
The Prancer studied her for a long moment. Then he straightened. ‘Then I must go with you.’
Fianna nodded. She slowly eased from the strange room, gingerly testing the rocky surface. Although it was obviously natural stone, it was smooth, as if cut by some powerful knife. The lights overhead were far too bright for candle or oil, and glowed in a blue-white colour down their long lengths. She could just make out the tubes which clung to the equally smooth ceiling of the chamber.
Anton waited impatiently a few steps away. Fianna looked past him, down the long cavern. Strange objects lined the walls, some as large as dragons. Their outlines shimmered behind blue light, and she wondered uneasily how strong Anton’s magic was.
‘Why have you created all this?’ she asked, stopping at his side.
‘I didn’t make anything you see in here. I only discovered it.’ Fianna and the Prancer followed as he started down the cavern. ‘It’s taken me years to understand it all. These are the relics of our ancestors.’
Fianna halted before one of the shimmering bubbles of blue light, within which rested one of the large contraptions. A metallic surface glimmered underneath, panels forming what looked like a large, closed carriage. Several long, hollow shafts protruded from the sides. ‘What is the purpose of this?’
‘Armoured tank,’ Anton answered. ‘Held in a stasis field, so it’s as operable as when it was rolled off the ship.’
Fianna said sharply, ‘Your words mean nothing to me. I assume that was your intention.’
Anton shrugged. ‘The light preserves the metal, like oil does a sword. If called upon, the tank is ready to do its task.’
‘Which is?’ Fianna asked, wishing this man didn’t need prodding for each answer.
The strange light gleamed on his teeth. ‘To fight dragons. Our ancestors trusted them as little as I do.’
Fianna felt her heart still in shock. But Anton was moving on, boot heels clicking against the floor. She found the unicorn pressing against her side, and she reached up an arm, resting her hand on his back as they followed the King.
She counted three of the tank-objects, each as large as a small dragon. Beyond was a cage, bars of shimmering silver reaching from floor to several feet above her head. The rock forming the fourth wall was scarred, chipped as if something had tried to break free.
The Prancer halted suddenly, ears back, head low. Fianna turned. The unicorn which had boldly faced a dragon was trembling in terror, his knees all but giving away beneath him. ‘To those who live long and well,’ he intoned dully, ‘there will be a returning and a rebirth. But to those who break the law of Herd and Land, there is only stone and darkness, and a place of glowing silver, deep in the bowels of the beginning.’
‘Race memory,’ Anton said, pleased. ‘From the time when you were the slaves, and we the masters.’
Fianna reached down, turned the unicorn’s head away from the cage. Now she thought she could identify the marks on the wall. The angular chips of hooves. ‘Lead on,’ she told Anton grimly, ‘and away from this place.’
The Prancer recovered slowly as the bars receded behind them. ‘Fianna,’ he said softly, ‘my apologies.’
Fianna swallowed against a sudden surge of protectiveness. ‘Do you remember that place?’
‘Tales are told, to frighten foals into obedience.’ The Prancer shook his mane and snorted. ‘I had never believed them.’
‘Until now.’
‘Until now,’ he acknowledged. ‘How many other of our tales are true?’
Fianna blinked at something looming in the distance. She slipped chilled hands into pockets. ‘Do any of them mention that?’
Anton laughed, his breath misting in the cold air. ‘The Land longed for children, and she pulled the seed of life from the stars. Is that not what your tales tell you, unicorn?’ He swung his arm, pointing at the rounded object awaiting them. ‘And that is it. A ship. In that did we come from the stars.’
‘The stars are nothing more than points of light,’ Fianna protested. ‘How could we come from them?’
‘Stars are suns, like our own sun.’ Anton’s strides lengthened. ‘And just as our world circl
es around it, so do other planets circle around other suns. We came from such a planet, a world called Earth.’
Fianna glanced at the Prancer, found his coat darkened by sweat. ‘Dragons, unicorns, and humans?’
‘We brought the other two species,’ Anton continued. Fianna found herself reappraising the object as they approached. Half of the metallic shell seemed to be buried in the rock, the walls rough around the bright sides. ‘We created them.’
Fianna stumbled, his heresy distracting her from the task of negotiating the uneven floor. She forced a laugh. ‘How could anyone create a dragon?’
‘Our ancestors held such knowledge.’ Anton sounded almost grim. ‘We have long since lost it. I’ll show you.’
The rounded side grew larger and larger as they approached. Fianna found herself awed, although she did her best to hide it from Anton. The Prancer seemed to be regaining his usual cheery confidence, or at least was learning to manage his discomfort. When Anton pressed against the metal, and an opening suddenly appeared, the unicorn stepped in first, hooves taking on a higher note. Anger shifted across Anton’s face. Then he stood to one side, waving Fianna in as if their entry before him were by design.
The Prancer took the initiative a second time, striding through the first chamber without so much as a glance. Fianna watched him pass through the open door to the next room, but paused a moment to study the inside of the chamber. ‘What does this mean?’ she asked Anton, touching a word embossed in the cold metal. ‘Air lock?’
‘There’s only vacuum in space,’ he informed her haughtily.
‘Of course,’ Fianna answered, angry again. He obviously did not want to share his knowledge, but only point out her ignorance.
Then she stepped into the second chamber, and stopped in wonder. The room was in two levels. The door had led onto the upper level, which circled the lower section. Metal desks followed the curve of the walls, and what must be chairs stood in front of the strange designs sunk into the gleaming surfaces. The sheer size of the room impressed Fianna. Even her Throne room could have easily fit within.
