Jillian moved back to the tree and lowered her knapsack. She pulled out a healing poultice and a long bandage.
She washed the unicorn’s leg wound and applied the poultice, smearing it thickly into and around the torn flesh. She wrapped the leg with the bandage.
“Good as new,” she said, proud of her work.
The unicorn nickered and nuzzled her neck with its velvety muzzle. She stood and stretched, then gazed up at thousands of brilliant, pinpoint stars scattered across the sky’s black vault.
“I’m going back to sleep.”
The unicorn followed her to her shelter, his footsteps soft in the thick grass. She dropped a few logs into the fire, and then crawled into her shelter. Outside, the unicorn kneeled, then lay down near the fire’s warmth.
He snorted, and she smiled in the darkness.
“Good night to you, too.”
~*~
Jillian awoke the next morning, birdsong loud in the nearby trees. Slivers of blue sky peeked through the shelter’s branches and she wondered if she’d dreamed about the unicorn. She uncovered the sword, but it wasn’t glowing. She sighed and crawled out.
There was no indication that anything big had slept nearby. The grass was untrampled.
She pulled the knapsack down, stirred the coals back to life and dropped another pair of broken sticks into the fire. Maybe just a vivid dream?
The sticks caught and she watched the flames while munching on lamb jerky, the sword beside her.
“Have you seen a carmine monoceros?”
She dropped the jerky and grabbed the sword, pointing it at the voice. The sword glowed with a bright, yellow light and, when she noticed this, her arm trembled.
A small person, maybe two feet high and wearing green slippers made of leaves, stepped back in shock. Behind him stood twelve other people, also very small, all dressed in tunics fashioned from leaves and flowers. Exactly as her grandpa had described them in his stories. Were these really fairies?
Her voice trembled. “I don’t believe in fairies.”
“We don’t need you to believe in us,” said the fairy standing before her, stamping his feet. “And stop pointing that weapon at me.”
One by one, the others knelt to the ground, staring at her sword.
The nearest fairy, clearly annoyed, peered more closely at the sword. The anger melted from his face and his mouth formed a perfect “O.”
“Where did you get that?” he asked, his voice reverent. “Is that...WarMaster?”
She shook it at him. “It was my grandfather’s,” she said in clipped tones. “He died. Now it’s mine.”
The fairy’s face grew sad. “Oh, you must be Jillian. He spoke about you often.”
She lowered the sword until its point touched the ground. “You knew him?”
“Of course we did. He was a magnificent man, kept us alive for many years.” He flashed a friendly grin. “My name is Auberon. We lost a carmine monoceros nearby and we need to find him. Perhaps you’ve seen him?”
She shook her head. “A what? I didn’t see any mono...whatever. All I know is that a big, red unicorn with a nasty bite on his leg woke me up in the middle of the night.”
The other fairies leapt to their feet and talked all at once, their voices tinkling like little bells.
WarMaster pulsed with alternating white and yellow flashes. A twig snapped, and the unicorn stepped out from between two trees.
The fairies cried out in delight and ran to him, climbing him and hugging his legs. One small fairy woman grabbed the unicorn’s tail and swung back and forth.
The unicorn didn’t seem bothered by this. It tossed its head up and down as if happy.
Jillian’s sword continued to pulse.
“Excuse me,” she said to Auberon. “Why is this thing glowing?”
He looked impatient.
She pointed to her sword. “It lit up for the first time when the unicorn...er, monoceros came into my camp last night.”
Auberon rolled his eyes. “It’s WarMaster. See those symbols?” He pointed at the runes on the steel blade. “Those teach the sword how to sense magical creatures.”
“Oh.” Jillian stared at the runes.
The fairies finished greeting the unicorn and turned to go. Auberon stopped at the edge of the Dark Woods. His little voice was strong, but sad.
“Now that we have found our monoceros friend, will you help us? We are at war with the ogres and may not survive. Your grandpa is gone, and we have nobody else willing to help us.”
Fight in a war? Jillian shook her head, and Auberon’s face fell.
“I’m sorry to have troubled you. We must go and prepare for battle. Thank you for healing our friend.”
“Wait!” she cried, then bit her tongue. Was she really going to help them?
Auberon ran back, searching her face with serious eyes. “Don’t promise to help if you are going to back out later. Your grandpa saved us more than once. Nobody here would have made it without him and WarMaster. Most of us owe him our lives.”
She stared at him in amazement. Her grandpa had been a hero? Tears filled her eyes.
“I promise,” she said.
Her sword burst into bright, red light.
Behind her, a crashing sound came from the clearing’s edge. She whirled and lifted her sword.
Auberon screamed. “Ogres!”
Six enormous creatures, each with razor-sharp tusks and giant, muscular arms, headed directly for her.
She took a step back in horror. Time slowed, and she could hear her grandpa’s stern voice.
“Put your weight on your back foot, Jillian. Lift the sword. That’s it. Watch where you want to strike and the sword will do the work for you.”
She blinked, and a metallic taste filled her mouth. It took every bit of courage to not drop the sword and run away.
The first ogre lunged for her, swinging a massive arm tipped with cruel talons. She dropped to one knee, terrified. His arm passed harmlessly by.
In a panic, she lifted the sword and rammed the point into the ogre’s chest, just underneath his leather armor. The sword skipped off a rib before burying itself in his heart.
She yanked the sword free and rolled away from the ogre’s falling body, scrambling to escape. Her teeth chattered. A high, keening sound filled her ears, and she realized that she was on the verge of screaming.
Snorting, the red unicorn charged into the fight, spearing an ogre through the chest with his ivory horn. He shook his head to the side, hurling the dying ogre into the brush. He arched his crimson neck and screamed, raising the hair on Jillian’s neck.
A third ogre stopped, confused, and a fourth ogre, running at full speed behind the third, rammed into him, knocking him off balance.
Flailing his arms to stay upright, he took two giant steps toward Jillian. She swung WarMaster at its thick, trunk-like legs.
Her sword, already green with blood, flashed in the afternoon sunlight, slicing his left leg off. He fell. She swung the sword again and cut off the other leg. The ogre screamed in pain.
Another ogre clasped her hands into a massive double fist, then raised them high, as if to crush Jillian.
She had no time to run, so she feinted to the right and moved into the ogre’s shadow.
The ogre’s malevolent face loomed and she began to bring down her massive, clenched hands.
Jillian jammed her sword straight through the ogre’s chin and out through the top of her skull. The ogre froze, her eyes crossed, and she crumpled lifeless to the ground.
Jillian didn’t have time to celebrate. She strode toward the fallen, legless ogre, who screamed in fear as she drew near. She slashed once, and the screaming stopped.
She stared in horror at what she had done.
A rushing sound came from behind. Something heavy struck her. Air whistled by her ears and when she hit the ground her sword flew away. Panicked, she ran out of the clearing, dove under a bush and clutched her knees to her chest, rocking in th
e dirt while tears wet her cheeks.
The unicorn, which had barreled into her, screamed at the last ogre squatting in the center of the clearing. It leapt high, flipped over and drove its horn down through the ogre’s shoulder. The ogre crumpled to the grass, dead.
Jillian crawled out from under the bush and retrieved WarMaster from under a nearby bush, its pommel gleaming in the sunlight.
A crystalline silence descended on the clearing. The fairies gathered around the broken body of a young fairy, his eyes clouded over. One of the ogres had crushed him with a club while Jillian had hid under that bush. Auberon bent and lifted the dead fairy in his arms, then walked to the pond’s edge. He stepped into the cool water and waded in waist-deep. Auberon kissed the fairy’s forehead, tears shining in his eyes.
“Goodbye, my brother,” he said, his voice choking. He released the fairy’s broken body and it slowly sank into the pond’s murky depths. Auberon, his shoulders slumped, walked out of the water and into the woods.
Jillian started to follow him, but a fairy woman blocked her way.
“You ran away,” she said, glaring up at Jillian. “You are a coward.”
Jillian stood, rooted to the spot, ashamed.
The unicorn, covered in green ogre blood, stepped up. Jillian ran her hand along his chin.
“You saved my life,” she murmured, stroking the massive beast’s jaw. “You didn’t run away.” She stared at the stiff shoulders of the angry fairy. “But I did.”
The unicorn nuzzled her neck and whinnied.
~*~
They spent the night by the pond’s edge, and Jillian lay in her shelter, thinking about the fight. So much had happened since that morning, it was hard for her to believe she could ever fall asleep again. The shame of her cowardice pulsed through her in waves, and she vowed to never run away from danger again.
Eventually, she slept.
~*~
She awoke when the sun climbed over the horizon and chirping birdsong filled the air. She stretched, feeling sore, especially in her arms and shoulders.
Around the clearing, the fairies fashioned small clubs from round river rocks wedged into forked sticks and tied with vines.
Auberon stood in front of her and put his hands on his hips. “Ready for the biggest fight of your life?” he demanded.
“No.”
He nodded, his face serious. “I saw you run away. You’re only a little girl. I can’t say that I’m surprised.”
“Auberon, I’m so sorry,” her words came out in a rush. “I’ve never been in a fight before. I’ve never...” She thought about the ogre she’d killed and cut into pieces.
Auberon peered at her, his face serious. “Running away isn’t about you, or what you are comfortable with. It’s about the people you are abandoning. People who needed you to stand beside them and be strong.”
She nodded, searching his eyes for understanding. “I know that now.”
Auberon glanced at the pond, where he’d waded with the dead fairy in his arms. “I can’t say that your leaving the fight didn’t kill our young friend.”
Glacial stillness filled her veins.
She kneeled down and took his hands in hers. “Auberon, I swear to you, I will never run from a fight again.”
He flashed a tired grin. “Okay. I believe you. But there’s something you should know. Those ogres yesterday were just the beginning.” He pointed at the pile of dead ogres they’d covered in branches. “We have to destroy them once and for all.”
“Maybe they will leave us alone, now that they know we can fight back?”
Auberon shook his head, and his face grew haunted. “You don’t know how long we’ve been running from them. When your grandpa was alive, he did all he could, but we were barely able to keep them at bay. We had to move to a different hiding place every few months, just to survive. And we always seemed to lose at least a dozen or more of us with each move. No, today is when we strike back. Or we’ll be killed off completely.”
She looked at the unicorn, who had lifted its head and was staring at them as if it could understand them. “And what about your monoceros friend? His leg wound isn’t even healed yet.”
Auberon walked over to the unicorn. He pointed silently at the leg bandages. She kneeled, removed them and gasped.
What had been a raw, gaping wound yesterday was now healed, with only thin, white lines where the gashes had been. She searched Auberon’s face. “How could this be?”
He touched the tip of her nose with a finger. “You’re a healer, as well as a fighter. Your grandpa always suspected as much.”
She stood and stroked the unicorn’s head. “I miss him. He was the best part of my family.”
“You’re an old soul, child, but you have the heart of a warrior. Your grandpa did all he could to help us, but he was no fighter, really. You’re a natural with that sword. If you stay with us, we will be your family. If we destroy the ogres, these Dark Woods will finally be safe for us.”
“Then let’s do this,” she said, her voice loud. “Let’s track these ogres to their home and destroy them, once and for all!”
The fairies threw their little hats into the air and let out a mighty cheer.
~*~
They finished preparations and marched for an hour through the Dark Woods, following thin paths, barely visible to Jillian but easily spotted by the fairies. Her arms grew tired as she hacked through the thick underbrush. They walked for what seemed like forever.
Finally, Auberon, up front, stopped and raised his fist for silence.
Jillian crept forward, clutching WarMaster, and peered through some bushes. Below them, in a green valley, wood smoke curled up from two dozen small earthen huts’ chimneys. The huts encircled a large, stone building. Ogres walked around and between the huts, sharpening weapons and scraping hides mounted on wooden frames. They seemed relaxed, unprepared for an attack.
Jillian whispered. “What’s the plan?”
Auberon stared at the ogres, his eyes wide. “I was hoping you might suggest one? That stone building, in the middle, that’s where the ogre queen is.”
“The queen?”
“She’s the one that has been trying to exterminate us for years, encouraging the others to wipe us out.”
Jillian scowled, looking first at the large crowd of ogres and then back at their own small, fairy army.
“Well, in a fair fight, we would lose. Badly. What we need is a distraction.”
She spotted the red unicorn at the end of the line, munching grass. “Wait here.”
She crept to the unicorn. It raised its head and flicked its ears forward.
“Remember when I said I owe you my life?” she whispered.
The unicorn gave a quiet whinny.
“Well, I need your help yet again. I need you to make a distraction, so that we can sneak into that big stone building in the valley. Can you do that?”
The unicorn acted as if it understood what she wanted. It whinnied again and disappeared into the brush. Jillian listened but couldn’t hear it move away. Not even a twig snapped.
She returned to Auberon’s side. “Okay, now we wait.”
The fairies relaxed. Those with spears and knives sharpened them, and those with slingshots crept away to search for more smooth, round stones to stuff in their ammunition sacks.
Twenty minutes later, a shrill scream split the silence. Wide-eyed, Jillian ran to the edge of the Woods and peered across the valley.
A mile away, but yet visible, the red unicorn stood on a grassy hill, proud horn jutting into the sky, its mane billowing in the wind. It threw back its head and screamed, again, then pawed the ground with a black hoof.
Below, in the valley, all the ogres dropped what they were doing and stared open-mouthed at the screaming red animal on the hill. Then they reacted. In groups of two and three, they gathered up weapons and armor. Snarling, they charged out of the small village and up the long hill.
“Now,” shouted Auberon, waving t
hem forward. “We attack now!”
The fairies, with Jillian in the lead, burst out of the brush that lined the valley and charged down the hillside.
By the time they reached the village, the ogres who hadn’t gone after the unicorn were waiting for them.
Jillian raised WarMaster high. It glowed like a ruddy torch, making the ground and those running beside her look as if they’d been dipped in blood.
She ran directly at the biggest ogre she could see, a giant of a beast, fully seven feet tall and muscled like a fortress. He held a massive club studded with spikes and laughed at her through a mouthful of tusks.
At the last moment, when its club whistled down toward her head, she stepped to the left, spun behind the ogre, and slashed the backs of his knees with WarMaster. He fell to the ground and a swarm of fairies climbed all over him, stabbing and clubbing. His screams grew muffled and then silent.
Jillian was too busy to watch. Weaving a net of glinting steel in front of her with WarMaster’s sharpened point, she parried dozens of attacks coming from all sides. Her mind was clear and calm, with no trace of the fear that had made her flee the previous day. Wielding her grandpa’s sword in battle had changed her, forever.
She grew confident with every passing moment. WarMaster, like a living thing in her hand, weaved and dodged, shattering ogre swords and turning their clubs into sawdust. When convenient, the sword’s tip would dart forward and bury itself in an ogre’s chest, drinking the lifeblood deep in its heart, then withdraw to once again block attacks.
First there were only a few ogres on the ground, then eight, then a dozen. When there were twenty dead ogres surrounding her, she glanced up to where the red unicorn stood, high on the hill.
He had charged partway downhill to meet the ogres head-on. Mangled ogre corpses covered the hillside, punched through by his horn and then trampled under his hooves. A shrill scream came to her on the wind, and a small smile tugged at her lips.
She fought, using the sword to carve up her enemies. One by one, the ogres stumbled away, mortally wounded, only to have the fairies swarm them and finish them off.
Swords, Sorcery, & Self-Rescuing Damsels Page 13
