by Chrys Cymri
‘This,’ Anton said, waving an arm, ‘is where our ancestors controlled this ship to bring us to this planet.’
‘Indeed, and not only your ancestors, King,’ the Prancer responded in a ringing tone. He stood before one desk. ‘Unicorns also.’
Anton snorted. ‘Nonsense. We humans brought you.’
‘Look at my hooves, human.’ Fianna blinked, her eyes still accustoming themselves to the strange, sourceless light. Then she focussed on the shiny hooves. They rested in four indentations in the floor, set precisely for a unicorn’s stance. ‘We have another teaching tale, which tells of the time before the beginning. The Land called to the metal seed, but could not bring it with her own strength. She spoke to the humans, but their ears were too full of their own screams to hear her. But the first of the unicorns knew her, knew her voice, and he it was who brought the People to the Land.’
‘Some of the unicorns were used to crew the ship,’ Anton admitted reluctantly. Then he recovered. ‘But you owe your existence to humans.’ He glanced at Fianna, his eyes holding something she could not interpret. ‘I will show you.’
She followed him to one of the desks. He jerked the chair out of the way, cracked his knuckles as he stretched his fingers. Then, muttering under his breath, he began to press the symbols. Fianna moved closer, fascinated as a window flickered to life over their heads. ‘What’s the meaning of the magical incantations?’ she asked.
‘It’s not magic,’ he growled. ‘The console responds to a combination of entered and spoken commands. How else do you think I learned how to communicate with the ship?’ He raised his voice. ‘Entry: Run promovid, ‘Phantasy World.’’
Fianna stepped back, bumping into the Prancer. A male voice had suddenly begun speaking, coming from everywhere and nowhere, startling her so much that she only started listening after the first few words. ‘...where all your dreams can come true? Where you can ride unicorns and dragons, learn the ancient codes of combat with sword and axe?’ The dark screen was suddenly filled with pictures of unicorns and dragons, kings and queens on thrones, castles and forests. Fianna frowned. The castle was unfamiliar, the colours of the nobility a confusion of reds and purples. ‘Where else, but Phantasy World! Created at no expense spared to allow you to become a knight or even ruler of a fantastic magical kingdom. So, mortgage the Mars holiday sauna and sell the kids. This is better than anything you could ever imagine!’ The screen blanked.
‘This,’ Anton announced, ‘was created by the same people who made this ship, and sent it from our original planet with the intention of building a new land.’
‘I refuse to believe that you had any part of creating the People of the Trees.’ The Prancer stared down at the smaller man, his tail twitching. ‘You lack the necessary honour.’
‘But humans did engineer you.’ Anton ran a finger down several symbols. Fianna stared at the sudden picture of a unicorn, various labels attached to horn, hooves, tail. ‘And the dragons. You were given human intelligence by the grafting of human genetic components, taken from drops of human blood.’
‘So the kingdoms are indeed united by blood.’ The Prancer’s laugh mocked Anton’s deliberate use of terms which his audience couldn’t hope to understand. ‘But those ancestors of yours placed themselves under the protection of my ancestors. A colt can grow taller than his sire. The sacred twins are bred from an ordinary mare. Your forebears obviously had more wisdom than is shown by their descendant. They knew that the People of the Trees had more affinity to the Land than themselves.’
‘Yes, the Land.’ Fianna, watching as the unicorn calmly asserted himself, looked back at Anton. He had recovered his chilling authority. ‘How little you know the truth about the Land.’
‘Then show us,’ Fianna said, tiring of his superior tone.
‘Follow me. But take care,’ he added, picking up a candle and lighting it. ‘There isn’t enough energy to power all the lower compartments.’
The dust of ages, stirred by two pairs of feet and four hooves, rose into the air. Fianna sneezed, but kept one hand to the wall. The light from Anton’s candle lit his way, but did little for her. The Prancer seemed to have a better time of it, rarely catching a hoof against a doorframe or a sudden drop. But then, Fianna thought sourly, he’s behind me, so my stumbles give him good warning.
They seemed to walk on for miles. The candle flame flickered against strange objects which gleamed through their coating of dust. Fianna caught glimpses of caverns even larger than the first, interspersed with places small enough to be lit entirely by Anton’s light. Living areas, she realised belatedly, as a bed briefly stood out in one room.
‘It called to me, the first time,’ Anton said, sounding out of breath as he halted by a door. ‘That’s how I found this place. It called to me, and I came.’
He pushed the door open. As Fianna and the Prancer followed, he placed the candle on a shelf, then lit an oil lamp instead. But Fianna could see a dim, blue light not far away. She started towards it.
‘No.’ Anton suddenly blocked her path, his face red with anger. ‘You go no nearer.’ Then he turned and strode away.
Fianna started after him, fists clenched. But the Prancer’s muzzle, lowered to her shoulder, stopped her. His breath warm against her neck, he said quietly, ‘Take great care. There is a great wrong in this room. I felt it through my hooves when I first came to Primus. This is where it’s strongest.’
With great reluctance Fianna remained in place. Anton lit several more lamps across the long, narrow chamber. The last one spluttered to life on a bracket near the object of Anton’s attention. A large oblong container, half the size of a man, rested on a pedestal. Blue light swirled and danced behind the thick glass. Anton touched the container, and the bones of his hand were suddenly outlined in purple. Then he glanced back at them, half his face touched by yellow, half by blue. ‘Both unicorns and dragons were created on our home world, but on Earth unicorns couldn’t heal, dragons couldn’t fly. Not until this was distilled.’
The Prancer took a step forward. ‘That is magic.’
Fianna felt her arms goose pimple at Anton’s unpleasant laugh. ‘No. There’s no such thing as magic. I don’t entirely know what this is. The ship gives me words such as “nanobots” and “augmented psych” and “neural net”. But I know that this substance,’ he tapped the container, ‘is from science, not magic. It was released into the world when the ship crashed. It would have kept on pouring across the planet, but then I found this place, and I learned how to trap it in here.’
‘The Land is dying,’ the Prancer said grimly. ‘Are you responsible for this?’
‘Yes.’ Anton straightened. ‘Because of what you call magic, we’ve lost the technology we used to have. We’ve lost ourselves in superstition and incantations. Once this so-called “magic” is gone, humans can start relearning science. Physics, chemistry, biology, all predictable and stable. Not like magic, which fails when it’s most needed.’
‘Magic or science,’ Fianna said, exasperated. ‘I still hear you using incantations and strange words. What is the difference?’
But the unicorn had moved closer to the King. ‘You speak of your mother.’
‘I don’t want to talk about her.’
‘Yes, you do.’ The Prancer took another step forward, and Fianna could guess his intention. To touch Anton with his horn. ‘Isn’t that the reason for your anger?’
‘The day of the unicorn is over.’ Anton deliberately turned his gaze to Fianna. ‘You must see that, Queen Fianna. What do you think will happen in your own kingdom, when the dragons find themselves unable to fly?’
Fianna remembered the merciless eye of the dragon at a forest pool, calmly poisoning the water supply of an entire town. ‘They might hide away in their Sacred Mountains.’
‘When they are unable to hunt for themselves?’
‘Or they might come to Secondus and demand that we provide for them.’ The possibilities were too many. She suddenly wished she had
Pealla beside her to offer advice. The Colonel was injured, she reminded herself, wondering if her knights had been able to leave the castle. ‘There’s no telling what a dragon might do.’
‘Do you want to risk the safety of your people?’
She straightened. ‘What’s the alternative?’
‘Join with me.’ This, she suddenly knew, was why he had brought her across a kingdom. ‘Humans with humans. I have weapons, a precaution designed by our ancestors to use against both unicorns and dragons. They are being readied for use. Together, our kingdoms can destroy them, before they destroy us.’
‘Her answer is, of course, no,’ the Prancer said crisply. ‘And you cannot succeed anyway. The Land also gains life from a source under Secondus castle.’
This was news to Fianna. She made careful to note to speak to the unicorn later, after she remonstrated with him for revealing information to an enemy. ‘What’s in it for me?’
Hope pulled his thin lips into a smile. ‘Two kingdoms, if you wish. I have no desire to rule. We can even marry, if you prefer, so that you can become Queen over both our peoples. I’ll then be free to continue my research.’
‘And you’ll leave my kingdom alone?’
‘I’ll need certain things from your lands. For example, the mineral deposits in the Dark Hills. I must have those, whether with or without your consent.’
‘That sounds like a threat of war, King Anton.’
‘If it has to come to that.’ His eyes glittered. ‘I must continue my research.’
Fianna felt the Prancer’s agitation, his hooves shifting restlessly behind her. She took a deep breath. ‘The journey here was long, and I must have time to reflect on all that you have shown me. Might we be shown to chambers reflecting our rank?’
Anton nodded. ‘You’re welcome to the best that Secondus can offer. What shall we do with the ‘corn?’
‘Stable him with your horses,’ Fianna said nonchalantly. She heard the Prancer snort, ready to protest. Her hand, hidden behind her back, quickly touched his chest in warning. She felt him grumble, but obey. ‘Remind him of his humble origins, while I consider our greater goals.’
<><><><><><>
Fianna wandered once through her rooms, finding them more sumptuous than her own in Secondus. Then she threw herself onto the wide bed, feeling suddenly very tired. She wanted nothing more than to sleep, to forget Pealla’s white face as she was carried from battle, the Prancer’s wide eyes as a halter was fastened around his head and a chain attached to a ring by his stable door.
No, I must think. She sat up, and reached over to the jug and basin beside the bed. The water chimed as she poured into the bowl, and she splashed her face with the cold liquid. Then she laid back and studied the painted designs on the ceiling.
So, Anton offers me the ruling of two kingdoms. For a moment she allowed herself to savour the thought. The mere girl who wasn’t good enough while a male might be available, risen to command all human lives across the Land. Wouldn’t that show my father? she thought. Yes, maybe, if he were still alive. But such things are no longer important to him.
And what is important to me? Yes, I want to rule the Fourth Kingdom. I was raised to it. But not at the expense of another’s life. Nor can I accept that unicorns and dragons must be killed. Ambition spills too much blood. She felt tears prickle behind her eyes. If nothing else, my brother’s death taught me that much. I want no more killing for the sake of a throne.
A knock on the door woke her from her drowsy thoughts. Fianna rose and quickly tightened her belt, missing the weight of a sword at her side. ‘Enter.’
Gregson strode in, quickly placing a finger to his lips. He turned, and dragged inside the unconscious body of the guard placed outside her door. ‘Don your cloak and boots,’ he whispered grimly. ‘I will lead you to the stables.’
Fianna obeyed, and accepted her sword with a grim nod. ‘I’m pleased to see that your honour is greater than your King’s.’
‘I am the King’s man, but I also know that guest law outweighs even his commands.’ Gregson quickly and efficiently tied the arms and legs of the guard, stuffing a gag into his mouth before dropping him onto the bed. He made a few quick adjustments of the bed covers. Now a casual look would convince anyone that Fianna was sleeping peacefully in her room. ‘Come, we have little time.’
‘The stables,’ she told him. ‘The Prancer’s being held there.’
‘No longer.’ The man smiled. ‘He had released himself before I was able to perform that duty. He awaits us there.’
Fianna nodded. Then, obeying his hand signal, she followed him silently across the room. Gregson unlocked a door hidden by a large tapestry, then led her through the servants’ passageways. The narrow, plain corridors wound behind and around the state rooms, symbols above the doorways indicating bed chambers, libraries, offices. Fianna found her hand dropping to her sword hilt as they passed the unicorn symbol of the King’s chambers, but she forced herself to pass it without pausing. Later, she would have a reckoning with Anton. Not now.
‘For a knight,’ she whispered to Gregson at one point, ‘you seem to know your way through the backstairs.’
‘I was a page before squire or knight.’ He stopped suddenly, studying an unmarked door. ‘Same as you.’
‘I’ve missed some parts of my education.’
Gregson gave her a sharp glance. ‘You’re young to be a knight, admittedly, but are you not even a squire?’
Fianna forced her voice to remain low. ‘I’m Queen. I would’ve thought that to be enough.’
A twist to the man’s lips told her otherwise. But he said nothing as he pushed the door open. Cold air slapped against Fianna’s face, startling after the close warmth of the passageways. She followed Gregson cautiously out onto the courtyard. The night was dark, and she pulled her cloak tighter against the fine mist prickling her cheeks. The humid smells of a stable directed her as much as Gregson’s hand on her elbow.
Several horses muttered in their sleep as they entered. Gregson calmed them with soothing words, and lit a small lamp hanging by the door. Fianna smiled at the Prancer. He was waiting impatiently by one stall, his head free of halter.
‘You will ride the unicorn, Your Majesty,’ Gregson whispered. At the Prancer’s snort, he continued, ‘An unmounted horse would only cause questions to be asked.’
‘I do not look like a horse.’
‘It’s dark outside,’ Fianna explained, hiding a smile at his proud stance. ‘As long as the guards don’t look too closely--’
‘Then a pointed question, what about my horn?’
‘Hoof-black. On both hooves and horn.’ Gregson pointed at a table of polishing tools. ‘There’s a container of it there.’
Fianna grimaced. The man had obviously never touched a unicorn’s horn. ‘If you would oblige with that detail, Sir Gregson, I’ll search for a saddle to fit his girth.’
‘No bit,’ the Prancer stated flatly.
‘There’s little choice. You need to appear as a horse.’ She studied the saddles draped across posts set into the wall, wanting a messenger saddle for the light weight, but realising that speed horses were usually smaller than the unicorn. Behind her she heard Gregson open a jar, mutter to himself as he sank a finger into the dark liquid. A sudden, sharp intake of breath informed her that he had touched the glowing horn. Fianna smiled grimly to herself, and continued her search.
When she returned to them, saddle and bridle draped across her arms, the Prancer’s hooves and horn were black. The look on Gregson’s face made her halt, shocked. Something had been drained from the eyes, the mouth, removing both wrinkles and bitterness. Some of the unicorn’s faint glow had been transferred to the flat cheeks.
Fianna felt a stab of sudden envy. Then she quickly came to the Prancer’s side. Gregson wordlessly threw a dark saddle blanket over the high back, helped her settle the large saddle on top. The Prancer snorted as the cinch was tightened around his belly. ‘Don’t breathe in,’ Fianna
warned as she tightened the strap. ‘Or else I’ll fall off when you exhale. A lot of horses know that trick.’
‘I can sympathise with their reasons,’ the Prancer grumbled. But he lowered his head and allowed her to place the bit into his mouth, slide the head stall over his ears. The bit fit imperfectly between his teeth, and she heard dull clicks as he tried to manoeuvre it into a more comfortable position.
Gregson offered Fianna his joined hands. She placed a foot in his palms, and mounted, adjusting the stirrups to bring her knees high. ‘As soon as we’re free of the city gates,’ she told the Prancer, ‘start running. Since I don’t know how we’ll find the rest of our group, we’d best head back for the Fourth Kingdom as quickly as possible.’
‘I can find dem,’ the unicorn said thickly around the bit. ‘Smell dem out.’
She patted him on the shoulder, then glanced down at Gregson. ‘And you, sir knight?’
‘I will remain here.’ He smiled. ‘I am still the King’s man.’
Fianna nodded, still disturbed by his new serenity. Then she pressed her heels into the unicorn’s side. ‘Noth nice,’ the Prancer complained.
‘It means you’re to go forward.’ Fianna sighed, exasperated. She took the reins in her hands. ‘If I pull like this, placing the strap against the right side of your neck, turn to the left. And if leather touches the left, go right. Both being pulled back at once means stop. Understand?’
‘Nod bery logical.’
‘If a horse can comprehend it,’ she said tartly, ‘I’m sure a unicorn can. And remember, no talking once we’re outside the stable.’
Gregson opened the doors for them, and Fianna urged the Prancer forwards. She hoped the guards would not notice that the sound of his hooves striking cobblestones was higher tone of silver, not steel, but she had neither the time nor the patience to convince the unicorn to be shod.
The city was quiet. The late hour and the cold drizzle of rain had obviously convinced the citizenry to keep sheltered, whether at home or in nearby drinking establishments. Fianna kept low against the Prancer, and made sure that her red hair was covered by the hood of her cloak.
